Forget Me Nots
by Xrost
Summary: Post Hogwarts. Draco has lost who he loves; Bones has lost who she is.
1. Chapter 1

Voldemort fell on Susan Bones' twenty-first birthday. It was winter and snow fell on Susan Bones' twenty-first birthday as well. Snow also fell on Susan Bones' twenty-second birthday. Snow was falling when she arrived at Pennyweight. The door-wizard checked her invitation before taking her cloak and admitting her.

She made a B-line for the bar; not hesitating for anyone, though there were not many people present who would take much notice of her.

She had barely been there half an hour, throwing back drinks doggedly for most of it, when a scuffle broke out behind her. She looked over her shoulder carelessly to see Malfoy and Potter. Well, well, where had Malfoy managed to get an invite from? But he had an invite and there was no use arguing with that. Anyway perhaps it was a sign of growing maturity that they had not drawn wands and were mostly fighting with words. Bones went back to her drink and before long Malfoy had claimed the bar-stool beside her.

"Bones." It rather surprised her that he knew her name, even if they had gone to school together for six years. "Not drinking your life away, I hope?"

That made her smile; soft but closed. "Nope," she said. "Just my birthday."

"And why, pray tell?" inquired Malfoy. He'd gotten powerful, she'd heard. Almost as powerful as his father had been; and yet there was still something undeveloped about him – about the way he held himself, the way he spoke. Something.

"Dunno. Maybe I wish I'd never been born," she said. She would have moved away from him; not because it was him. She would have moved away had it been anyone. It wasn't a good idea to be around her on her birthday. It was because it was Draco Malfoy that she did not move away. He'd been her Potions partner only once, but she remembered it vividly. Funny, because she couldn't remember much else about him, but she'd learnt in that Potions lesson not to move away from him. He couldn't stand it. You had to let _him_ move away; then you let him come back.

"You wish you'd never been born," he commented, casually throwing back one of Bones' precious drinks. She watched it slide down the pale column of his throat in dismay. "That count as a birthday wish, you think?"

Susan smiled despite herself, and forgot to gather the rest of her drinks close to protect them from Malfoys who obviously had no sense of boundaries. "Draco," she said.

"Bones please, call me Malfoy," he cut in smoothly in the manner of one who is offering friendship. Though if Bones remembered correctly most of Slytherin did operate on a surname basis, so perhaps this was an overture to friendship.

"Malfoy then," she said. "I'm sorry. I'm planning on getting off-my-face drunk and I will insult you terribly. Consider yourself warned, and get me another drink."

Draco motioned for the bar-wizard with that imperious little flourish that always had them falling over themselves to serve, and that Bones had never mastered. When the bar-wizard reached them in record time, Draco tilted his head towards Bones. She ordered one of each cocktail on the menu and turned back to Draco. "So Malfoy, why are you not running?"

He smiled, slow and sultry. "I have been terribly insulted before, Bones. Consider it curiosity."

"Curiosity?"

"Mm. Let's see if a sweet, well-brought up witch like yourself can find a new and different way of insulting me." Bones didn't need to have sat with him in more than one class to remember his smirk.

She merely laughed before downing her bloody Mary in one long gulp. "There is something in that though," she said tiredly.

"Let me take you home," said Draco.

Bones held up a hand and downed her tequila sunrise in much the same way she'd downed her bloody Mary. "I don't have any alcohol at home," she objected.

"I meant my home," said Draco smoothly. "I have a cellar." His smirk had slipped away, and he seemed more certain than even his father had seemed. Too much so, thought Bones, and if she hadn't had so much to drink she would have been able to analyse it.

Instead she squinted at him under the smoky-dull lights. "Hm," she murmured. "You have astounding timing. Two drinks ago I so wouldn't have been drunk enough to agree to that proposal."


	2. Chapter 2

"Your home is disgusting. No offence, but it is." Bones stretched in the front hallway before walking forward into the lounge. "It looks like dead people live here."

Draco shrugged out of his coat watching her. "Like dead people _live_ here," he said dryly.

She was right, he thought in some surprise. The apartment looked like a morgue; sterile, clinical and impersonal. Even being in the front entrance was stifling. Strange the things that hadn't occurred to him before; not that they mattered to him now.

Bones turned slowly, assessing the lounge room. There was a languidness to her movements and Draco thought that she was one of those types who could drink an awful lot and not look drunk.

Finishing her assessment she turned back to find him watching her. She smiled at him carelessly, evidently reading the discomfort in the lines of his body. "I'm a mess, I know," she said with a laugh. "I don't know why. I used to be so nice in school as well – I don't know if you noticed, but I was. Everyone says so, so it must be true."

"You were different at school," conceded Draco, reaching out to hook his coat on the rack.

Bones had already twirled away to cross the room and run her finger along the edge of the framed painting on the far wall. "Cho Chang said you had a crush on me at Hogwarts. Pansy Parkinson threatened to use Cruciatus on me if I didn't leave you alone. Did you know?"

That was news to Draco. "Parkinson threatened that, did she?" he asked, unable to keep his tone from dropping to arctic levels.

Bones turned back to look at him, her eyes glinting much as the Avada Kedavra must have glinted right before hitting. "Only once," she said, violence creeping across her words.

There flared the danger in Bones. The first time Draco had encountered it was in fifth year, under Umbridge. Dumbledore's army had just been uncovered and Umbridge had said, "You hop along and see if you can round any more of them up, Draco."

Draco had gone after the Hufflepuffs. There was a short-cut that they couldn't have reached; more chance of getting them than the others, and Draco was nothing if not meticulous.

He'd come up against a witch of medium height, medium weight, medium build and medium looks whose eyes had sparked like the Avada Kedavra and who smiled like a wolf when she saw him. And, gods, he would have been hard-pressed not to smile back. Perhaps he laughed too; and perhaps the laugh was mocking – but not nearly so mocking as usual.

She watched him coldly with those Avada Kedavra green eyes and backed away with that wolf-smile, almost daring him to touch her. He wouldn't have if he could have; but he wanted her to stay a while, so he leant against the corridor wall and grinned his own brand of danger at her.

"Out for a stroll, were we?" he purred, voice taking on notes of supercilious superiority and throwing challenges at her in the hopes that she'd catch one and throw back.

Her laugh was less fire than smoke and, with a toss of her plait, she was gone. But that was Bones; she was the smoke, not the fire. Funny what they said about that; no one ever stares into the fire-place for the smoke, but if you're in a house-fire it's the smoke that kills you, not the flames.

Only later, hours later, did Draco realise that she'd been holding him up to protect the other Hufflepuffs. And he had folded to her plans as meek as a lamb.


	3. Chapter 3

She shrugged her cloak off now and tossed it onto the sofa. It had seen better days, Draco noted almost incidentally. That was one thing that had changed about Bones, she was no longer neat. Her coffee brown hair wasn't tied into its once-familiar plait. It was windswept, somewhat slept in and snowflake kissed. Though the snowflakes had melted to tiny droplets that clung to her locks. Her robes too were less than immaculate, torn and patched as they were and stained with dirt – or blood.

"Like a fire?" he asked as she made herself comfortable on the sofa.

"Firewhiskey? If you have any. Sounds lovely, thanks," she replied with a bright smile. Not the wolf smile; Draco wondered what he'd have to do to bring that back.

He leant against the mantle-piece and watched her. "Sorry Bones, can't stand Firewhisky. You're going to have to settle for Scotch, tequila, vodka or some very vintage wines."

She smiled in delight. "_All _of them!" she exclaimed.

So Draco took her to the kitchen. She didn't like that any more than she'd liked the entrance, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she looked around the white and silver interior.

"You live here?" she asked finally. "And it's by choice?"

Draco merely smirked at her. "You wear that?" he inquired coolly, dusting the shoulders of his own superbly tailored robes. "And it's by choice?"

She didn't deign to answer that, opening one of the long, silver cupboard doors to check its contents instead. "Huh," she murmured, pulling out a tin of passionfruit. She found the blender and at least two armfuls of bottles just as easily and set them up with the cheer of a child to whom several years' worth of Christmases have come at once. It rather surprised Draco that he had so much alcohol in his apartment; and he certainly didn't remember buying that blender.

"So, what can I get you?" asked Bones as she started adding ingredients to the blender, taking a few generous swigs from the Scotch.

"Nothing," said Draco.

She stopped pouring the passionfruit into the blender to look at him, one of her eyebrows tilting in a way that meant uncertainty on her. "Your parents are dead then," she said in a voice that didn't sound the slightest bit uncertain and Draco wondered whether he could no longer read her before the impact of her words hit him.

He almost recoiled, but managed to stop himself, collecting himself carefully before speaking. "They are," he said in the tone that every friend of his knew meant that they had to change the subject or risk injury to themselves.

Bones was blithely unaware of his tones however, merely wrinkling her nose in concentration at the blender as she tossed ice-cubes into it. "What makes you unhappy?" she inquired contemplatively. "That they died, or that they deserved to?"

Six years ago Draco would have obliterated anyone who spoke of his parents like that whether they were living or dead, now he propped his shoulder against the wall and resolved not to speak until he could be absolutely sure he wouldn't lash out.

Bones picked the jug off the blender and shook it a little, sending the ice skittering around inside. Then she took a seat at the floating bar and began drinking from the lip of the jug.

"You didn't blend it," Draco pointed out, moving closer cautiously to take a seat opposite her; his tone wasn't even but at least he wasn't attacking.

"Too much noise. This conversation interests me."

"It doesn't interest me."

Bones took another long gulp from the jug. "People say you killed your father," she said.

"People talk shit!" Draco snarled, getting up so fast that his chair smashed to the floor. He had never been much good at controlling himself in school, he was better now but he had never expected Bones to be deliberately cruel.

When he glared at her she was smiling her slow, steady wolf-smile and studying him with eyes more Avada Kedavra green than ever.

"Did you?" she asked.

"Why are you doing this?" asked Draco hollowly. "What do you get out of it?"

Her smile grew sharper. "Nothing yet," she said, tone serenely bored. "Perhaps one day."

She took one last swig from the jug, put it on the closest bench and strode past Draco back into the lounge room.

Muscles still tense with anger, Draco leant against the kitchen bench and watched her. She bent over the couch, catching up her cloak with a deft flick of the wrist.

"In another five years, perhaps pet," she tossed over her shoulder, laughter clinging to the edges of her words as she started for the door, pulling her cloak on.

Draco's anger fled, replaced with a flash of blind panic. "Yes," he threw out, trying to keep the desperation from his voice. He succeeded, the word coming out cased in ice.

She paused, turning her head slightly, hair falling over her shoulder and a confused look in her eyes that Draco hadn't seen since they were at Hogwarts. "Yes?"

Draco let out an angry breath. "I killed my father."

The confusion melted into contemplation. "Did you love him?" asked Bones finally, tone softer and wistful as though the secrets of the world could fit into that little answer.

Draco thought of the man who had painstakingly tutored him in life, love, manners, morals; the man who had been utterly wrong in most of those teachings. He met Bones' gaze, eyes not flickering and said with absolute conviction, "Yes, I loved him."

Bones smiled, looking relieved. "Good," she said with a laugh. "Thank fuck. You have no idea how glad I am you've said that."

And, without a glimmer of unease, she ambled back to the kitchen, shrugging her cloak off once more as she walked.

Bones was like that though. She wasn't difficult to persuade; she was…easy. The morning after the D.A. raid and Dumbledore's flight, Bones had walked into Potions to find Draco sitting in her regular spot.

She hadn't fought, nor had she given in gracefully. It seemed that she didn't much care that he had chased away her usual partner and therefore there was no giving in to do.

"I've left my textbook behind," she'd said, sitting by Draco and rudely ignoring his attempts to intimidate her. "I hope you have yours."

Studying her with ice-cool grey eyes, Draco said coldly, "I never bring mine. My partner always brings his."

Even that outright attempt at making her feel inferior failed. Her eyes lit up. "Let's wing it," she said, her wolf-smile blazing out in full force.

Draco thought that winging it would entail watching the rest of the classes' progress and copying as best they could. Bones thought winging it meant making it up as they went along. Bones' definition won out. They spent the next three days scrubbing the potions class-room from top to bottom. And even Draco's Inquisitorial Squad membership didn't get him out of that.


	4. Chapter 4

The concoction they were cleaning turned their hands and the knees of their robes lime green. For the first two hours, Draco merely leant against Snape's desk, glowering at Susan Bones and refusing to help. The potion hadn't exploded until she added the dried kelpie fin so as far as he was concerned, it was her mess.

All that he'd wanted to do by sitting with her in Potions was terrorize her into a healthy fear of him so that she'd think twice before tricking him out of catching her insubordinate friends again. It wasn't fair that he be punished for it.

After the first two hours, when it became clear that the mess would not wash out easily, Draco gave in and decided to help. The less detentions served with the Hufflepuff witch, the better. She was too stupid to be intimidated anyway, so it was a waste of time all around.

"I heard you were good at Potions?" Draco looked up from scrubbing the floor to find Susan studying him with a softly curious gaze. Her eyes were doe-like today, though no doe had ever had eyes that green. It infuriated Draco that she even considered herself worthy of talking to him.

He fixed her with his coldest stare. "I know better than to add kelpie fin to a potion based on salamander lung," he drawled, his voice sharp and aimed at her self-esteem.

Confusion crossed her features; but embarrassment did not follow. Smiling finally, she said, "I don't." She leant back, kneeling on her haunches, and trailed a hand through her hair, leaving behind a smear of green that most likely wouldn't wash out. "Potions isn't my strong suit."

"Well," said Draco, in his most disinterested tone. "You're a Hufflepuff; so your only strong suit would be eating."

She shot him a startled look before laughing. It wasn't the nervous titter of someone who thought they were being made fun of, but the cheerfully delighted laugh of someone who hadn't even considered that the statement was not a joke.

"You think I'm kidding?" asked Draco, trying to keep the incredulity from his tone. That only made her laugh harder, as though he'd made another joke.

"Did you hear about the Hufflepuff who gave his Kneazle a bath?" she asked eventually, eyes warmly amused. "He's still trying to get the fur off his tongue."

Draco stared at her. She was so very innocent, and so very awkward; reaching out in that sweet way of Hufflepuffs to offer friendship. He'd seen them do it before; none of them ever expecting to be rejected, but not one of them had ever been so stupid as to try it with him.

She smiled easily before he could come up with a retort that was cutting enough; one that she wouldn't be able to take as a joke, and tossed her scrubbing brush back into the bucket, not seeming to care that the water splashed out onto her robes. Her fingers were as green as the knees of her robes and the streak in her hair and her eyes; she'd obviously forgotten a gloving charm. Though, she was a Hufflepuff, perhaps she didn't know how to cast one.

She was probably the most flawed creature that Draco had ever had the misfortune to spend time with. Gritting his teeth, he resolved to get through the detentions as best he could and never think on them again. There was nothing of the sharp, stormy girl he had cornered the night before in her and he was wasting his time on anything less.


	5. Chapter 5

It felt like something blunt was being hammered slowly into Bones' skull when she woke. She tried to open her eyes but the room was horrifyingly blurry so she gave up on sight for a while. When her head seemed to stop spinning she tried out her eyes again. Better; but still not good. And this wasn't her room. This was a disgusting room. It looked like a mortuary.

Bones staggered to her feet and looked around. Okay, where the hell was she?

"Morning," said a voice.

She turned. Leaning nonchalantly in the doorway was…

"Draco Malfoy," said Bones flatly. To say that she was surprised would have been an understatement. "How did you get here? Rather, how did you get _me_ here?" As she asked, she wondered where _here_ even was.

"Quite easily, actually," Malfoy sounded bored. "I told you I had a cellar."

Ugh, alcohol. "Yeah," said Bones with a wry grimace. "That would have done it."

"Juice?" inquired Draco. Bones rubbed her forehead and squinted at him blearily. There was a lot about the previous night that she was missing, but she was pretty sure she'd almost interrogated him about his family, and could vaguely recall telling him that they'd deserved to die. It wouldn't be the worst thing she'd said to someone in her life; or even in this past year, but usually the people she was speaking to held grudges. He didn't seem to be.

Ignoring his question, she looked around the room again. Last night she should have been more alert than she had been; but didn't let that factor keep her from making up for it now. "It's modern chic," she said slowly. "Aiming towards a muggle look and feel rather than traditionalist magical décor."

Looking surprised, Draco followed her gaze to the slate grey drapes before returning it to her, shrugging uncertainly.

"A lot of Death Eater sympathisers took on homes or apartments like this after You-Know-Who fell. The idea was to make them look less guilty." Bones stretched her spine casually.

"If you want to say something to me, then come right out and say it," said Draco coldly. If she thought about it, his tone was more familiar than it ought to have been after six years of not hearing it – though she had seen him once since he'd disappeared from Hogwarts at the end of the sixth year. Not long enough to have spoken more than a few words to him; and those words had been rushed.

"I am saying it," said Bones. "We're in Quinto Square."

For a moment Draco stared at her. "Huh," he said finally. "All that just to tell me something you already know? We Apparated here last night."

Bones snorted. "I'll take your word for that."

"So," said Draco looking uncomfortable suddenly. "Let me guess. When you came of age you got absolutely plastered and it's been a birthday ritual ever since?"

Bones smiled, she was well aware that her smiles of late tended to scare people so it was a surprise that it made Draco's shoulders relax. "Nice theory. But I didn't first get wasted on my birthday so unsound; very unsound."

"When did you first get wasted?" asked Draco and he still seemed relaxed, though he also looked concerned.

"Ah, the nostalgia," said Bones dryly. But she shrugged carelessly because it didn't matter and said, "Sixth year. I heard that Dumbledore had been killed and I guess…" She shrugged again because it hadn't made sense to her then and made no more sense to her now. Dumbledore had been her headmaster, that was all. She doubted he'd known anything of her past her name, and she had possibly spoken to him once in all the time she had known him. She had not broken so badly when Cedric had died; and he had been in her House, he'd been a prefect, he'd helped or bullied her with her homework like an older brother. But Dumbledore… "I raided Slughorn's stash all of ten minutes later and drank myself oblivious." Laughing sharply, she added, "I guess I have you to thank for my introduction to alcoholic substances."

"Why's that?" queried Draco.

"You did kill Dumbledore, didn't you?"

"Did I?"

"That's what they say, pet."

Draco watched her warily for a moment, gaze firm as though he couldn't bear to look away. "It's not…" he said slowly before shaking himself a little, frowning and saying flatly, "It's not healthy for you to drink as much as you were last night. Even if it was, it's…dangerous out there."

Staring at him incredulously, Bones laughed finally. Her laugh was no more pleasant than her smile. "Don't get self-righteous with me. You found me drunk and you took me home. You're fucking lucky I didn't hex you when I woke up, because Merlin, I was tempted." She hadn't been tempted, and that was a bit of a shock. Usually she couldn't stand being influenced when she wasn't completely coherent.

"Bit excessive even for you," said Draco, still watching her in the same way that she'd seen him watch the snitch at Hogwarts. When he had it in his sights, his gaze would not move from it. "I didn't touch you. I slept on the couch."

Bones ran a hand through her tousled hair. "Good," she said, glancing past him at the hallway beyond.

Apparently her intentions were thinly veiled at best. "Want a lift home?" asked Draco reluctantly.

Shaking her head, Bones said, "I need to head to work. I'll Apparate."

"Bones," said Draco as she began to squeeze past him through the doorway. She stopped and looked up at him. He hadn't moved from his side of the doorway so it was the closest she'd been to him since that long ago Potions class. This close she could see that there was a scar running through his upper lip that had never been there before. It wasn't strange, everyone carried marks from the war; but it made her unspeakably angry. He reached out a hand and touched her cheek gently, making her shy back against the inside of the door-frame in shock. Pulling his hand back at once, Draco grimaced and said, "Would you have dinner with me Friday?"

She frowned at him. "Malfoy," she said finally. "I've seen wolves play dead before; they've still got fangs."

Giving her a steady look, Draco said, "I won't bite you."

Bones slid the last few inches out of the door-way. "That's not the point," she said.

"What is the point?"

"Wear sheep's clothing if you want; but the wolf's more fun," Bones divulged.

"Okay, will you come if I promise not to play dead?" Draco called after her as she headed for the stairs.

She didn't turn back. "Dinner has connotations, Malfoy. Lunch doesn't and coffee doesn't."

"Lunch," Draco tossed out desperately, like it was a pop quiz and he wasn't sure he was right.

"I'll owl you," replied Bones, as she disappeared down the stairs. Some moments later the front door slammed shut.

Draco smiled, carding a hand through his hair and glancing back at the rumpled bed. Merlin but asking her out was easier now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay, probably too little too late but just so you know this is HBP compliant but AU to DH. Also thanks for the reviews, guys :D**

* * *

Back at Hogwarts it had been grudgingly done, of course. Rather maliciously done if it came to that. And it hadn't happened all at once, at first Draco had had not idea that he would ever _want_ to ask a Hufflepuff out. He was annoyed enough at having to get through detentions with her.

The following days of detention were not as bad as the first had been. Draco found that the time passed more quickly if he helped Bones though she didn't seem to care if he did or he didn't.

He didn't taunt her again. There was no point, he told himself. She was too stupid to take his insults seriously, and he could content himself with smirking at that permanent-looking streak of green twisting through her hair. He didn't let himself consider that he might like having someone around who neither feared nor loathed him. She was a Hufflepuff after all, her opinion wasn't relevant.

She spoke to him as they worked; not of anything important. It seemed that she was trying to get to know him. Someone like her could hardly add to his social circle though, so he mostly ignored her.

Eventually she gave up; but the silence they lapsed into was not a tense one as Draco was used to. In fact, if he could in any way admit this about himself and a Hufflepuff, he would have thought that the silence was amicable. Because she was Hufflepuff, however, he merely acknowledged that the silence wasn't uncomfortable.

He was bored enough eventually to glance across at her and consider conversation starters. "You're pure-blooded?" was the one he finally settled upon.

She shot him a shocked look, before her eyes narrowed into an uncertain frown. "Does that matter to you?" she asked slowly.

Draco shifted, wondering whether after all his failed attempts at deliberately insulting her he had finally succeeded in doing so accidentally. If this was his only chance at hurting her though, he was going to take full advantage of it. "Not particularly," he drawled. "After all, someone like you could hardly fall further in my esteem."

That only made her laugh again, shoulders relaxing and a look of relief crossing her features. Draco wondered whether he should have merely told her that, yes, it mattered.

"Yes," she said. "I'm pure-blooded. It's a bit annoying really. Muggles sound so exotic."

She was appalling. Worse than Mudbloods really, because at least they had no choice but sympathise with their magically challenged relatives. "Are you kidding? They can't do the simplest spells. An Alohamora is beyond them."

"But have you seen how they compensate?" asked Bones excitably. "They don't need Alohamora. They have people who can open locks by poking at them with little bits of metal."

"Yes, Bones. Those are called keys; we have them too."

That made her laugh yet again. Draco thought that she laughed more than all of his friends put together; it wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"They get to move their own chess pieces," she said dreamily.

"Why would you want to move your own chess pieces? It's menial. All muggle work is. They don't _get_ to do these things; they _have_ to." He tried to ignore the fact that he was scrubbing the Potions room floor as he said this. It made his point slightly blunter, he felt.

"I think that it would be fun to move your own chess pieces," said Bones wistfully. "You could smack the other player's pieces flying and if you won at the end you could use your evil cackle. There are so few opportunities in life for the evil cackle."

"Evil cackle?" asked Draco, giving her a Look that he hoped conveyed all of the mountains of contempt he felt for her.

She nodded earnestly.

Draco felt that the Look was not working so he raised an eyebrow, hoping that it would help.

She chewed her lower lip for a moment, looking nervous, and Draco was sure that the eyebrow had not failed him in this. There were so few things in which it did fail him, thankfully. Then she smiled self-consciously. "I haven't really tried it yet," she said.

Before Draco could ask her what the squall she was talking about, she laughed. It was a cheerful laugh, light and bubbly but perhaps a little hysterical around the edges. Then she stopped and studied him expectantly, her warm, round face serious.

"Are you kidding?" asked Draco icily. "_That_ was your evil laugh? _That?_"

Bones flushed pink. "It's a work in progress," she protested. "I mean, it needs some tweaking, maybe…" When Draco fixed her with the full force of his Judgement Look, she wriggled uncomfortably before laughing her usual sunshine laugh. "Okay, so it's terrible. I thought…since you're a Slytherin. I mean, isn't that what Slytherin's do? In their spare time?"

Draco stared at her. "You think we have nothing better to do? Than think up manic laughs?" He didn't admit that maybe once or twice he and Zabini might have tried it. Just in case they ever took over the Wizarding world. Blood-curdling laughs were certainly an asset in some cases.

Bones shrugged uncertainly. "I don't have any Slytherin friends," she admitted.

"I should say not. No one in my House would associate with you." Great, he'd made her smile again.

"So, you don't know anything about evil cackles?" she asked.

"Look," said Draco coolly. "You're a Hufflepuff, but I don't ask you if you spend your spare time lying in doorways as practice for being a doormat or heading to the kitchens to wallow in filth with the House-elves, so…"

"Yes," said Bones.

"Yes?" She was more confusing than the Malfoy Manor hedge maze; and they still hadn't found Uncle Rafe's body in there yet.

"I mean, we don't lie in doorways, and the kitchens aren't filthy; but we help the House-elves."

Draco's mouth dropped open. "What do you mean? They're House-elves; you don't have to help them. It's their job."

"Usually," said Bones cautiously, as though she'd had this conversation before with unhappy results. "When you have a job, you get paid."

"Oh for Merlin's sake," said Draco, laughing despite himself. "That Granger's been brain-washing you."

"No," said Bones reluctantly. "We know about her S.P.E.W. initiative but we don't subscribe to it."

"That's astonishing," said Draco flatly. "Let me guess, you don't want to liberate the elves, you'd rather join them?"

"Well…" This subject made Bones look incredibly uncomfortable so Draco pushed, raising a demanding eyebrow at her and curling his lip a little. She folded just as Hufflepuffs always did. "We thought if we showed the House-elves what it's like to be treated kindly, they might demand kindness. They don't care about money or power. They like working. But they value kindness; and they deserve it. So…"

Draco smirked. "You think that anyone's going to give them something just because they deserve it?"

"No." The Hufflepuff's eyes were clear and steady. "Those in power have never relinquished anything to those who have none. Not without a fight. We just want the elves to consider that they are worth fighting for; even if they only demand kindness."

He had thought at first that there had been a spark of intelligence in her, muted by her resolve to think the best of people. He was wrong, he realised now. There was a whole flame of intelligence in her; she just didn't seem to care enough to show it. Only much later did he realise that she masked her intelligence because she was afraid to show it. Not afraid of what people thought, nothing like that. In some ways Bones had been more prepared for the upcoming war than anyone Draco had ever met, including Dumbledore.

But for now she was merely an average-looking witch who searched for the good in everyone she knew. It was perhaps one of her major flaws that she usually found good; even where none existed.


	7. Chapter 7

The front door of the apartment opened into Quinto Square, as Bones had deduced. Rows of muggle-style building fronts lined both sides of the street; flat and lifeless as much contemporary muggle design seemed. Muggles, Bones often thought, were visual Dementors; sucking the soul out of anything that could be beautiful. Even the most twisted and rambling magical buildings had a kind of grace that muggle structures lacked.

Were Hermione here she would tell Bones that she was being too cynical. "You don't want to see beauty," she had said once. "And that's why you never do. You're so determined to see the world as a cruel, dark place that you convince yourself it is."

She hadn't been being cruel. Bones had never known Hermione to be deliberately cruel. But she'd been tired and frustrated and Bones hadn't been helping matters. Harry had gone missing in action days ago and none of them had slept.

Chin resting on arms folded across the table, Hermione yawned and asked. "Don't you remember how you used to be in the DA? You used to smile."

"I smile," said Bones, drawing up grids across a map of Britain on the wall as the Weasley twins handed out coffee. They'd run dry on jokes after fifty-eight hours without sleep; they were nearly at sixty-three hours now.

"When people around you get hurt." Hermione lifted her chin to glare at Bones. "You used to be nice."

"This isn't helping get Harry back," said Bones. "You're wasting my time; you're wasting your energy. If you can't be productive, get some sleep and let the rest of us work."

"What happened to you?"

Bones raised a shoulder and let it drop. She thought about this occasionally. It bothered her that she couldn't figure it out though, so mostly she tried to pretend that she'd always been this way.

"Do you even care about helping Harry, or are you only worried about the prophesy?" asked Hermione.

"Harry will die," said Bones. "Or he will live. It doesn't matter either way. I have a contingency plan for both."

The room, quiet before, dropped into silence. Studying the map, Bones sipped her coffee. It scalded her tongue, which was probably a good thing. At this point pain might keep her awake better than caffeine.

"You-Know-Who is a creature of habit and pattern," she said eventually. "Harry is not. We've checked You-Know-Who's logical options and come up empty so we may need to make the assumption that Harry is where he has chosen to be."

When no one replied, she turned to her team.

"You have a contingency plan for Harry dying?" Hermione's voice was cold as ice and twice as hard.

Bones could read the warning in it. She was a Hufflepuff, so she also understood enough to know what Hermione was angry about, though she could no longer empathise. "We don't have time to discuss this," she said.

"The hell we don't. You don't get to make contingency plans for the death of one of my best friends!"

"When it's the Boy Who Lived, I do."

"To everyone who knows him, he's just Harry! Did you even stop to wonder how he would feel; knowing that people he trusts, people he has fought by are calculating his death?"

"It annoyed him," said Bones.

"Oh God." Hermione stared at her, looking as though she was having trouble breathing. "You spoke to him about…You told him that you had anticipated him dying?"

Bones stretched her spine, not taking her gaze from the map. Her back had cramped from sitting too long in one position. "I want him back alive too. It will be easier to win this war with him than without. So just focus." She knew that she sounded cold. Sometimes, Hannah had told her, she didn't seem human. She didn't feel it either most of the time. People fell to this war, and Bones watched. The deaths barely affected her; she would tally up whether each death would give her an advantage or a disadvantage and she would add the results to her mental database. Other than that, it didn't matter.

The war was all but over now. Voldemort was dead, and all that was left was to round up the remaining Death Eaters who were proving as elusive as smoke. During the war, Bones had thought that when the war had ended she would be the same again; people would matter to her again. It hadn't turned out that way; she still didn't care about the people around her, and it was safe to do so now.

Throwing her cloak about her shoulders, she twisted into a Disapparation. The foyer she Apparated to was warm and smelt faintly of lemon from the furniture polish. Hermione looked up from her spot at the reception desk, hand going automatically for her wand before she saw that it was Bones and relaxed.

Walking across the hardwood floors, Bones took in the papers strewn about Hermione. "Anniversary of the fall of You-Know-Who means a two-day holiday, you know?" she asked.

Shrugging her shoulders expressively, Hermione reached up to pull a quill from her hair. She'd taken to shoving several nib first into a messy bun after the twins had started casting joke hexes on the ones lying around the office in moments of boredom. "I've moved from my office to reception; that's practically a holiday," she said, then looked up at Bones. "What's your excuse?"

Bones yawned, rubbing sleep from her eye with the palm of her hand. It was probably a sign of insanity that she had slept better in a stranger's bed the night before than she had probably slept in years. Then she decided to stop counting signs of insanity in herself. It was only depressing. "Am hung-over. That's almost as good as a holiday."

Hermione snorted with laughter. "Yeah? I heard something about you going home with Malfoy. What's happening there?"

Scratching her cheek, Bones grimaced. She should have expected that Harry would talk to Hermione; or would talk to Ron who would talk to Hermione. "Well, my memory was a little absent last night, but pretty sure he asked me home, and pretty sure I was too spiflicated to say no."

Hermione studied her papers a little too intensely. It was the kind of intense that made Bones brace herself, though she wasn't entirely sure what she was bracing herself for. "So," said Hermione eventually. "Is that the end of it? Or are you going to let yourself be fooled again?"

Bones had never had an opinion on Draco Malfoy at Hogwarts so she hadn't considered that he'd fooled her when he killed Dumbledore; but Harry, Ron and Hermione had always been so sure of his ill intentions that they probably thought anyone who wasn't sure was stupid. She shrugged. "We're different than when we were in Hogwarts," she said.

Glancing up at her before going back to her papers, Hermione said, "Well, you are." She wasn't bitter about it any longer; had settled into being resigned.

"Yes," agreed Bones slowly. "I am."

Hermione looked up sharply. "That wasn't an insult," she said. "It was a statement."

Bones shrugged. Statement or insult, it amounted to the same thing. She wasn't the same as she had been; and she had always liked who she had been. "How is your potion coming along?" she asked.

Hermione let out an annoyed breath. "I like how you are now," she said. "You would die for any one of us; and you would let any one of us die to save the innocent. What's not to like? It's not as though you're pleasant to be around but I sometimes think that I can trust you more than I can trust anyone in the world."

Tilting her head to the side, she furrowed her brow and added, "You've always been so sure. For you I doubt there was ever a moment where you decided you were willing to die for this war. You would have always known."

It was different for her. She'd been born in a world where war was a thing of the past; only wisps of memory and never very close. She would have never had to sit in the alcove of a darkened stairwell, listening to her father sob in the next room on her late uncle's birthday. Years that he would never turn passed by so surely; and the pain was always so palpably there. "You're muggle-born," said Bones. "You don't understand."

Hermione shrugged, because she didn't understand. She had passed through a war and had come out the other side largely unscathed. She had lost friends, of course; they all had. But she had never grown up under the darkness of a war half-over and the threat of a new one looming. "I think you should steer well clear of Malfoy. You can't expect any good to come of it," she opined finally. The advice she gave was no longer a demand, but a suggestion. Most of her advice was sound and Bones trusted it innately.

And yet. "I promised that I would go to lunch with him."

Hermione gave her a long, searching look. "You want a relationship with him." It wasn't a question.

Had Bones been leaning against something, she probably would have fallen. "What? Where did that come from?" she choked instead.

Hermione's look became harder. "You know," she said coolly. "He's done quite well for himself now that his parents are dead and there's some doubt as to which side he was on in the war; he'd do better if he found himself a wife who stood firmly against Voldemort."

Bones laughed. "Hermione, honestly. He'd be better off choosing Cho Chang or Hannah…"

"Cho Chang is not the face of Hottie," said Hermione shortly. "Cho Chang did not lose a blood uncle and two blood grandparents to the first war before losing a blood aunt to the second." Her eyes narrowed in a way that Bones recognised. She was about to say something cruel. Bones didn't bother bracing herself; it was almost impossible to hurt her these days. Hermione knew it too, because she didn't soften the blow. "Malfoy would not consider Cho Chang a sure thing."

That was true enough. Bones knew that she didn't have the same grace and allure that Cho had. People would never stop to watch her walk by. When she laughed it didn't make those around her want to move closer just to bask in the warmth of it. Cho could have so many people that if someone did want to salvage their reputation they'd be better off going for someone less admired.

Biting down on her lower lip, Bones tried to put the previous night and that morning into perspective. Instincts told her that Hermione was wrong. There had been a time when she had been able to trust her instincts; but those instincts were no longer reliable. So it was down to deduction. Malfoy had treated her as though she was precious. He'd been subtle about it, but he'd watched her as though he could not bear to look away, he'd let her speak badly of his parents without as much as a rebuke.

Aside from that, she couldn't remember enough to form a conclusion. "I think you're wrong," she told Hermione. "But duly noted. I'll watch him when we go to lunch." The prospect made her happier at once. Trying to work out the suspicious actions of others was always entertaining.


	8. Chapter 8

Draco waited almost two weeks before Bones' letter arrived. It was barely legible, but Draco had been subjected to Bones' handwriting before. It only took him a few minutes to decipher what would take most wizards an hour.

_Am free noon Friday. Advise if suits._

Draco immediately cancelled three engagements and wrote back; _Suits_. There was no need to add more to his message. It would give her the impression that he cared, and that wouldn't do at all.

Last time too he had pretended fiercely not to care; and last time doing so had been just as difficult even if the motive had been different.

The third day of the Potions detention, she made him laugh. Not a cruel laugh directed at her and meant to hurt; a short, surprised burst of laughter that he regretted the moment it was out.

Smiling at him, she asked hopefully, "Did you like it?"

"Are you mental?" Residual laughter still clung to his words, making him sound good-natured. He tried to make his voice harder when he said, "You sounded like a chipmunk with a head injury."

She looked disheartened for a moment before brightening. "Maybe if I…"

"No," said Draco firmly. "You are not cut out for evil laughs. You're embarrassing yourself. Hell, you're embarrassing _me_."

"Huh," said Bones, looking thoughtful rather than offended. After a moment she started scrubbing the wall again.

The classroom was barely looking green at all any longer. Draco wasn't sure why he felt a pang of regret at the fact that these detentions would soon be over. With the Easter holidays about to start, he should have been elated.

It wasn't about her, exactly, Draco didn't think, but about the way he was allowed to act around her. He felt almost like a blank canvas with her; and she was waiting for him to fill in the picture. It wasn't that she had no expectations of him; she had misjudged him countless times, always giving him the benefit of the doubt, assuming him nobler or kinder than he was. She expected him to be kind, so she believed him to be and he had failed to supply her with ample proof that he was not.

It was a relief; to not have to keep up that exhausting façade of hating and wishing ill on everyone who did not reach his ideals. In this, he was glad that Bones was a Hufflepuff. After all, who would believe her if she told anyone how he acted around her? Hufflepuffs were known for their trust and naiveté, Slytherins were known for their cunning. People would decide that Draco was playing with Bones for some reason, so there was no danger in this.

Still, she couldn't have the impression that anything about her – even her stupid Hufflepuff innocence – appealed to him. It would be mortifying.

By the time he spoke again she had nearly finished the wall she was on – the last green section left in the dungeon now. "So it's a Hogsmead weekend coming up," he drawled.

She jumped a little, clattering scrubbing brush loudly against the bucket before darting a startled look across at him. It occurred to Draco that this Hufflepuff might be so entirely Hufflepuff that she'd gotten carried away with the cleaning and had forgotten that he was even present. Leaning against Snape's desk and smirking at her as he was, he refused to fidget in discomfort. It was an entirely new and awkward feeling for him though, being forgotten, and he didn't like it at all.

She frowned a question and when enough time had lapsed to make it clear she had not heard what he'd said, he scowled at her and said flatly, "Hogsmead."

"Oh," she said, still frowning as though unsure as to what response he wanted from her. He realised a little too late that she might take the curt explanation as an invitation. "For Easter..?" she murmured finally, casting a hopeful look at Draco as though for confirmation that this was the topic they were on.

He laid aside his plans to scorn her to death for daring to assume that she was in any way good enough to date him and nodded abruptly instead. "I imagine you'll be going with Longbottom or Smith, or one of those other near-Squib gits."

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, but this time she reined it in and studied Draco with a pensive frown as though something had occurred to her and she wasn't sure whether she was right about it. Great, she'd decided he wanted to ask her out and he'd have to scorn her after all. "Draco," she said finally, tone cautious.

"Malfoy," he corrected sharply.

She leant back, eyes still fixed on him with the barest hint of a frown playing about her brow. "You know that witches don't need a wizard to ask them to Hogsmead in order to go, right? That law hasn't been around for centuries."

Draco stared at her. That was hardly the point. All he wanted to know was whether or not she was likely to be in Hogsmead and which day. Not that he'd go out of his way to find her, but if the occasion arose and he was bored with what he was doing he could always consider her an option. "So no one's asked you then?" he asked impatiently.

It was an easy enough question, but instead of answering, Bones' features coloured a slow-burn red. This time, Draco thought, it was his fault. One did not keep questioning another's romantic prospects unless they had interests in that direction too. Damn. Was there a stick handy to fight her off with..?

"That's not…" said Bones. "Personal, I mean. It's…I can't…"

Because she was stammering and evidently terribly uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going, Draco fixed her with an expectant look. "I'm sorry, what are you saying precisely?" he asked and was rewarded with a deeper blush sweeping across Bones' face. Hufflepuffs honestly had no defence mechanisms; obviously Draco should have left the angry Gryffindors alone and tormented them instead.

"I'm not…" Bones seemed to make a concentrated effort to find the right word and finally came up with, "available." She said it like a question, watching Draco closely as if to gauge whether it was acceptable.

Like a sheep to the slaughter. Draco tilted his head, frowning at her. "I don't really know what that means, I'm sorry?"

Looking trapped, Bones choked, "I'm not available..?" like a dying woman clutching at a lifeline and unwilling to let go even though it was proving unreliable.

Perhaps it wasn't clever to push when Draco was already worried that his considerable charms would overwhelm her poor Hufflepuffian brain but now that she was flustered, he couldn't resist. "Available in general or available for Hogsmead?" he drawled, tone decidedly bored.

Shifting as though desperate to be anywhere else, Bones said, "In general." She took a breath, smiled a little and said, "Parvati Patil says you flirt with anything on legs. But, for the record, I'm not available."

Draco tried not to gape at her in horror at having been accused of flirting. If she'd been a pretty Hufflepuff like Hannah Abbott he might have been tempted, but her? "Excuse me," he said coolly. "I was not flirting. You are considerably beneath my notice."

Her smile turned full-bloom at once; warm as always but there was a hardness to it that Draco hadn't caught before. He didn't think that it was something new, just that it was something he hadn't yet taken note of. He wondered how she would respond if she knew that all of those comments she was taking as jokes really were insults. There was an edge to her, so thinly razor sharp that it was barely noticeable; insults would probably shred themselves to bits on that before ever finding a mark with her. "Good," she said, and although her tone was carelessly amused, Draco detected some relief to it. He wondered who it was that she was with before realising that he shouldn't care at all about that.

He asked about it later anyway. It was awkward and embarrassing and he didn't know why a plain Hufflepuff's love life mattered at all to him, but he had to know. Curiosity, he assured himself. Curiosity as to which wizard would lower himself to that level.

"What do you know about the Bones'?" he asked Blaise Zabini casually at dinner. Zabini's languid gaze went across to the Hufflepuff table, swept over Bones and came back to Draco.

"Dark Wizard catchers," he said, with a shrug. "Her uncle, his wife and their kids were killed in the last war. If her aunt and parents aren't careful they'll go in this one."

"Evidently she's the same if she's that eager to join up with Potter and his band," said Draco somewhat contemptuously. "I assume that the wizard she's going steady with is against the Dark Arts too?"

Zabini straightened, a frown coming to his brow and, turning in his seat once more, looked across at Bones. Draco had thought that he'd been casual enough in asking about her, but perhaps not. It might have been smarter to go to someone less suspicious than Blaise, but he knew all the gossip and tended to keep up to date with wider politics too. "Didn't know she was with anyone," he said finally, the darkness in his tone suggesting that he didn't like being caught out of the loop. "Must be a recent development."

Draco might have asked why Zabini would keep such close tabs on a witch like Susan Bones, but remembered that she had been part of Potter's DA. With his mother as close to the Dark Lord as she was, Zabini kept an eagle eye on anything that might hurt her. "When you find out who it is," said Draco. "Tell me."

Zabini frowned, evidently trying to work out why Draco would want to know anything about the relationships of Susan Bones. Before he could ask, Draco smiled his knife-bright smile that promised faithfully that he was working on something unforgivably malicious. Zabini relaxed, smiling back, but a languid, more carefree smile. "You're a right prat, Malfoy. Go after the Gryffindors, at least they can take it."

"We're looking at a chain," said Draco, casting his gaze from the Gryffindor table to the Ravenclaw and then lastly to the Hufflepuff. "Which do you think is the weakest link?"

"She may be a Hufflepuff," said Zabini. "But she's also a Bones. I'd test my mettle against Hannah Abbott; her bloodline has no history of standing up to the Dark Lord." He smiled again, lowered his voice and murmured, "or Cho Chang; she's already broken."

"You don't think I'm capable of taking on Susan Bones?" asked Draco. He kept his tone superciliously flat as he was aware it got when he was offended, though he wasn't offended; he was meticulously setting up justifications to be seen with Bones. He didn't know why, but there was an opportunity and he wanted to take it.


	9. Chapter 9

"She's not with anyone."

Draco looked up from his Potions homework, frowning a little in annoyance at being interrupted. Blaise Zabini gave him an annoyed look back. "Susan Bones," he said. "No dates, no boyfriend, no potential boyfriend, no girlfriend, no potential girlfriend. No crushes as far as I can tell. Where are you getting your information from?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "From her," he said.

Zabini sniggered. "She's lying to you, Malfoy. And you believed her."

Throwing his quill down and probably leaving a blotted mess on his parchment, Draco turned around to face Blaise completely. "Why would she be lying to me?" His tone must have dropped into that frostbite sharp it sometimes got because Blaise backed up a step.

"Don't know; poor attempt at making you jealous maybe. But she has nothing on the side, nothing in the works. Longbottom is the only one who has a thing for her but she doesn't reciprocate."

Still frowning, Draco ran through their conversation of the previous day quickly. She hadn't given details, had only said that she wasn't available. Possibly that meant something other than a boyfriend but Draco had no idea what, and she must have known it would give him the wrong impression. Even if the words were truthful, deliberately leaving someone with the wrong impression was dishonest. So the Hufflepuff had lied to him; and he had fallen for it.

The bed creaked as Zabini sat on the corner of it. "If it turns out that she has lied for a more ominous reason than having gone giddy over your supposed good looks I imagine that you will tell me." His voice was flat, but his eyes were hard and watchful.

"She's a Hufflepuff," said Draco derisively. "How ominous can the reason be?"

Zabini shifted, looking unexpectedly uncomfortable. "It took eight Death Eaters to bring down her uncle and his wife, and that was with them being taken by surprise and trying to protect their kids. Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange wanted to take her aunt down during the last war, but the Dark Lord wouldn't let them. He thought that Amelia Bones was too strong. He wanted to take her family down around her and take her when she was struggling with the grief of it. Susan doesn't look like much, but she has their blood. So if she's lying to you for a reason, I want to know it."

Draco nodded slowly. Zabini had always kept a closer track of the previous war and the enemies of the Dark Lord because he was terrified that his mother would fall to one of them. Draco tried to ignore it all because he was just as scared that his family would fall to it. Now that it was looming ever closer, Draco thought that possibly he needed to start taking notice. He didn't think that he could ever be paranoid enough to watch his classmates as potential enemies though. Potter was possibly the Dark Lord's greatest threat, but damn it all, war should stay off school grounds. In Draco's mind it did.

He didn't see Bones again until he nearly ran into her in the front entrance after an impromptu game of Quidditch. His team had won and he was feeling a little smug but mostly elated so he didn't even swear at her when she stepped into his path. Then he saw that it was Bones and stopped.

"Well, if it isn't the elusive Susan Bones."

She glanced up absent-mindedly, as though she had only just noticed that she was in someone's way. There was a smattering of green ink on her chin; the same colour as her eyes. Her hands were still potion-stained and she had a cut across her lower lip. Draco didn't know why he was even talking to her.

She smiled, eyes scanning him quickly. Evidently taking in the Quidditch robes, she asked, "Good game?"

Holding up a loosely closed hand, Draco showed her a flash of the Snitch. "What do you think?"

Her smile widened before it must have pulled at the cut on her lip and she winced. Running her tongue across the scratch, as though to remind herself it was there, she said, "In Hufflepuff winning a game doesn't necessarily make it a good game."

"Considering how little Hufflepuff win, probably a good call." He realised only after she laughed that he had been joking this time. It was painfully awkward and frankly ridiculous. She had lied to him; he was meant to crush her cruelly. "So," he said, tone flattening, and watching her more closely to gauge her response. "You're evidently not busy, and I could do with the walk. Come to Hogsmead with me."

"Uh…" Bones looked towards the stairs. "I'm not…"

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Available," said Bones. She wasn't a very good liar, now that Draco was watching for it. She couldn't quite seem to meet his gaze and her cheeks flushed a blotchy pink.

"Ah, yes," said Draco, testing her in case she wasn't lying after all. He wasn't used to giving the benefit of the doubt and didn't know why he wanted to so badly now. "The mysterious boyfriend."

Her colour deepened, but she nodded.

Draco crushed down the impulse to scowl and call her a liar and any other horrible name he could think of. "I honestly don't care to hear the details of your romantic life," he said somewhat coldly, because he was unused to people lying to get out of spending time with him. Everyone he had ever wanted to spend time with had been grateful for the opportunity; except that damned Potter, but he didn't think about that. "And it wasn't a request." He motioned her towards the door with an imperious wave of his hand and was surprised when she didn't fall into line.

"I really can't go," she said, not sounding apologetic, but sounding very sure.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. "It really wasn't a request," he said coolly.

She bit down on her lower lip, nose creasing uncertainly, but still made no move towards the door that would lead to Hogsmead; still looked like she had no intention of doing so.

Draco smiled pleasantly. "Ten points from Hufflepuff," he drawled.

Bones turned to watch the ten topaz stones empty out of the Hufflepuff hourglass. When she turned back, Draco asked casually, "Ready to go yet?"

After a moment, she shook her head.

Shrugging, Draco said, "Fifty points from Hufflepuff."

She leant against the hourglass and watched the stones filter out. She stayed right there until every point had been deducted. Only then did she turn and raise her eyebrows at Draco, as if to ask, 'is that all you've got?'

She could have left at any time while he was deducting points. He could still have deducted them, but it would have been a bit pointless without her there. It was only then that he realised that, Hufflepuff or not, there was a streak of her that was pure steel. She wasn't forceful; but she had none-the-less made it entirely clear that she would not be intimidated. And she was right, that was all he had; but he couldn't stand to lose so he fell back on bluffing. With Bones he had only one bluff, and if Potter had decided to get any more conversational than usual even that wouldn't work. But he put his gold on Potter being his usual brooding self, took a breath and said, "So, nice work trying to protect Ernie MacMillan, Hannah Abbott and Zacharias Smith from Umbridge the other night. Too bad I saw them."

She gave in with good grace and a smile. "Hogsmead?" she asked easily.

Draco was not a gracious winner so he smirked. "If you insist."


	10. Chapter 10

**I'll admit that I've spent more time on this chapter than any of the others and it may still be terribly confusing. Sort of hard to tell. If it is let me know.**

"It's obvious," she said later as she was peering at quills through one of the shop windows in Hogsmeade. "That you're an only child."

Draco leant back against the same window, just far enough away that people wouldn't think he was with her if they saw them together. "Why would my parents want another? They achieved perfection first time around." This wasn't precisely true. Draco tried incredibly hard to be the perfect child; and most of the time he felt like he was failing.

Bones' brow furrowed. "They…are very proud of you?" she asked finally, pulling away from the window and stepping into one of Hogsmeade's winding back alleys.

The response came automatically and smoothly, as though it was the truth. "Naturally." Following her, Draco was grateful that the route she had taken was such a deserted one. He certainly didn't want to have to explain to his friends why he was spending perfectly good time on a Hufflepuff. "What happened?"

Her brows rose in question.

"To your lip; what happened?"

"Oh." Her tongue slid across the cut again. "Promise you won't laugh?"

"I will make no such vow. If you have done something supremely ridiculous I reserve the right to mock you."

She smiled as though pleased; the smile pulling at the wound and making her wince again. "I hit myself in the face with my wand."

Draco did not even try to suppress his laughter. "How did you manage that?"

Looking a little embarrassed, Bones said, "A bug or something landed on me and I went to wipe it off but I forgot I had my wand in my hand at the time."

Draco snorted, making a mental note to let Zabini know that this Bones was not a threat. Her wand was more of a risk to her than those around her. He didn't notice that she couldn't quite meet his gaze or that she was blushing lightly again. "So you're not an only child?" he asked. It was the kind of question he might ask generally to stockpile as much ammunition against a person as he could. He had meticulous knowledge of the Weasley family and of Potter's family and knew exactly how to use it against them. Precisely how to twist the knowledge like a knife. With her…it wasn't ammunition. But for the moment he let himself believe that it was because there was no other reason that he'd want to know anything about this blood traitor witch.

Her smile glowed brighter than he'd ever seen it. Not bright enough to make her beautiful; but it was warm enough to bask in and it dragged him towards her without him being aware of moving closer until his hand brushed hers as they walked. "Helen," she said and there was a fierce sort of love in the way she said that name that Draco had never heard before.

Flushing, as though aware of how ridiculously proud she must have sounded, Bones looked away at the shops on the far side of the alley. "She's seven now."

If Draco hadn't felt such searing jealousy at the evident affection in the Bones family, he might have smiled at the fact that Bones couldn't keep her feeling for her sister from spilling over. Instead he smirked, "Bit late, isn't she? Or did your parents wait until they were sure you were a failure to try again?"

She stopped. When Draco turned back, her eyes were dark and he thought that he'd finally managed it. The calculating part of his mind took it in and stored away the ammunition for later use. Upsetting Bones: bring up family; tell her she doesn't measure up. It was a relief to have her emotionally dissected finally; to know how to handle her.

"Draco…" she said and she did sound like she was struggling emotionally. Draco's stomach tried to churn in discomfort, but he clenched his fist and did not let it; and did not let himself think about what that churning could mean.

"Malfoy," he said coolly.

She stared at him and gave up. "Malfoy," she said, voice trembling. "I shouldn't be here."

"And yet you are," said Draco, dusting the shoulders of his Quidditch robes. "You can go if you want to, but I will be telling Umbridge about those Hufflepuffs you were trying to protect."

She didn't crumble. Her eyes stayed dark, her expression unreadable. "It was never…" she said shaking her head and then cut herself short, chewing on her lower lip. Draco wondered whether it was tearing that cut open again. He wished that he could revel in the fact that he could hurt her enough to hurt herself. It mostly made his stomach churn again.

She smiled finally. Not as though she was being forced. "I don't mind spending time with you," she said and her voice was clear, she could meet his gaze, she didn't blush. She couldn't lie without giving herself away; but this couldn't possibly be the truth, could it?

Sighing, she looked down the alley towards the main street. She probably made sense; Draco could probably work her out if he just knew a little more about her.

"Coffee?" he said making it more of an order than a question.

Her eyes lit up, which was a good sign, but she said, "I don't drink coffee."

Exasperated, Draco asked, "Hot chocolate?"

"I drink that, but I don't have any money. I would have taken my purse but some incredibly overbearing wizard heavy-handed me down here before I had the chance." Her eyes were light again, her expression playful and from her tone Draco thought that she was inviting him to play too.

He didn't. "I'll pay for you," he said flatly, making it sound like the worst imposition imaginable.

Eyes still light and cheerful, she nodded. He wasn't sure, but he thought that maybe she was deluding herself into thinking that his gruffness was playful. He wished that he could disabuse her of that notion, but it would probably give her that hurt look that made him feel nauseated so he left the matter alone, turning on his heel and heading for one of the coffee shops that were less likely to be occupied by Hogwarts students.

"So Helen," he said sharply when they were seated at a table away from the windows in the back of the café. Bones subsided into her seat and gave him a quizzical look. "She's your only sibling?"

Making a small sound of agreement, Bones nodded. The subject didn't seem to be sour any longer, but Draco said, "They're probably proud of you."

When Bones' look became baffled and a little alarmed, Draco said flatly, "Your parents."

"Well," said Bones, as though uncertain as to how to respond. She reached out and stirred the sugar in the sugar bowl with its spoon. "They love me." Glaring at the sugar bowl as though it had offended her, she said, "Pride doesn't matter, I don't think. There's time for that later."

Draco laughed. "Really? You think that?" She must have been a disappointment to her parents. A family full of Dark Wizard hunters and she couldn't get herself into anything better than Hufflepuff.

Huffing out a breath of annoyance, she lifted her eyes from the sugar bowl to frown at him. "You know, I'm sort of trying here," she said. "If you want to be like this then there's no point in me staying."

He smiled casually. "Again, black-mail," he murmured just as casually.

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" She threw the sugar spoon at him. "Malfoy, I'm not here because you black-mailed me! Jeez!" Throwing herself back in her seat, she laughed. The laugh was friendly but strained around the edges. Rubbing her face with her hands, she sighed again and leant forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Just…" she said. "Just…Maybe if we don't talk about family?"

"They upset you that much?" Draco dusted sugar particles off himself and tried to ignore the fact that Bones was putting her elbows all over the table and throwing sugar spoons and tapping her feet and she was probably as uncivilised as those _Weasleys_.

"What?" Bones looked across at him from trying to rake sugar out of her plait. Something seemed to occur to her and she let her plait go, a frown beginning to start on her face. "My family don't bother me at all," she said slowly, watching Draco closely. "Where did you get that impression?"

"Well…" said Draco and he was about to follow up with, 'you're Hufflepuff' but decided at the last minute to be tactful. "When I said that Helen was an improvement, you were upset."

Understanding crossed Bones' features and she laughed. "Oh," she said, and then cut herself short, frowning again and shaking her head. "Helen's seven years old, Malfoy. Who…" Cutting herself off abruptly once again, she amended to, "My family wouldn't judge a seven year old."

Narrowing his eyes at her, Draco scratched his jaw. "What then? What upset you?"

Bones cleared her throat, staring at the sugar bowl. "I always thought that Slytherins and Hufflepuffs were much the same," she said finally. "I mean, in everything but intention. So you'd probably guess on your own after a bit, which means that I should probably tell you so that you don't…uhm…misconstrue my intention."

Draco had no idea what she was talking about. He was too busy being silently horrified at the notion that she thought the great and noble house of Slytherin shared any connection to the leftover, scrap-heap they called Hufflepuff to even try to reason it out.

"Uhm…" she said, staring at the sugar harder and Draco thought that possibly she was about to confess her undying love. He sat up straighter, preparing to throw the sugar in her face and dash madly out of the café if he was proven right. "The thing about Hufflepuffs is that they're empathetic."

Unexpected. "Mm," said Draco trying for nonchalance and relaxing fractionally in his seat.

"We…I don't take what you say at face value."

No, she was too busy taking it as a joke. But that notion made Draco feel a little uneasy. Empathy mixed with reading into things more deeply than was normal. Considering the conversations they'd been having when Bones looked like she'd been struck, the conclusion rushed upon Draco with discomforting clarity.

She was right, he thought dully. Slytherins and Hufflepuffs did have one major common trait. Gryffindors were practically illiterate and Ravenclaws read books; but Slytherins and Hufflepuffs read people. They differed only in intention. Slytherins intended to manipulate; Hufflepuffs to empathise.

It put a whole new spin on the day.

"You're not here because I black-mailed you," Draco's voice came out dangerously smooth. He raised his gaze to snare Bones'. He knew the answer anyway, but lowered his voice to a cold hiss, "You're here because..?"

She kept his gaze, eyes betraying only a little anxiety. Her tone was soft and warm as butter when she answered, "I felt sorry for you."

He laughed at her, sharp and icy. Usually his laughs were malicious enough to shield him from anything, but he should have known it wouldn't work on her. She was too stupid to be cut by his laughter, though it had shredded people far more confident than her. "Really?"

The corners of her mouth pulled down unhappily. "I'm sorry. If you'd just demanded I come, I wouldn't…But you black-mailed me. I mean…"

She didn't add 'how desperate would you have to be?' because Draco glowered her down before she could. But, yes, to Hufflepuffs desperation would have to be empathised with, catered to. Someone like Voldemort could never have risen in Hufflepuff. That kind of desperate loneliness would have always been answered. "So," he drawled, his voice still a mass of spiky sharp ice-shards that his closest friends would not attempt to placate. "If the things I said about you being compared to your sister didn't upset you, why were you upset?" He had a feeling he already knew the answer to this one too, but he wanted to hear her say it. Then he could hate her more.

Her voice was cooler when she said, "You already know."

Draco leant back in his seat, folding his hands across the flat of his stomach and smiling at her lazily. His posture was wide open, but internally he was raising his defences as fast as he was able. It had been a sort of open secret that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had tried desperately to have more children for many years before finally giving up. It was all very above board. The Malfoy line had to continue. More children could mean the difference between a strong family and extinction. Logically it made sense. But the desperation was just a little too…_desperate_. And Draco knew that if he was just a little better it wouldn't be there at all.

Hufflepuffs were empathetic, so Bones had made the mistake of thinking that when Draco had thrown the sibling rivalry issue at her he had been trying to empathise, using his own feelings of inferiority as a base. She'd been upset because she thought he was hurt, not because his attack had worked. And he had never bothered to consider that Hufflepuffs placed other people's problems higher than they placed their own, because who would?

"Well," he drawled casually. "Entertaining as this all has been…"

"Malfoy," she protested.

"No, really," said Draco coldly. He wished desperately that he knew how to hurt her. He would have given his broom for it, his place on the Quidditch team for it, anything. Right now he'd probably hurt her more if he told her every sob story he'd ever had than if he attacked any aspect of her life. If he couldn't give her pain though, he'd settle for terror. "I'm really glad we had this chat. With the Dark Lord back your family couldn't possibly last much longer. And after the next few months, who knows? Perhaps we won't ever have another chance." He didn't even care that he wasn't meant to mention the Dark Lord. He would have done it a thousand times and braved the consequences of it just to make her hate him or fear him or anything but pity him. He wouldn't be able to stand that from anyone let alone a Hufflepuff who knew he deserved to be pitied. The thought made him furious.

She looked cornered and utterly at a loss for words. Draco let the familiar smirk settle across his lips and waited for her to get the point and flee. She raised her head finally, catching his gaze just barely and then shying away from it and studying a spot to his left. He barely heard her when she spoke, her voice incredibly unhappy. "I've wanted to talk to you a thousand times." Letting out a breath, she pushed her seat back. "Family is strange," she said, standing up. He didn't think she was talking about his family somehow. "But I think I was right before; pride…you don't have to worry about that, it can come later."

Under normal circumstances, Draco would have sent a scathing retort back at her. Circumstances were nothing like normal now. He barely had enough defences to glare her down; he certainly didn't have anything left over to fling at her.


	11. Chapter 11

She arrived at Chez Avasseur looking much the same as she had on her birthday; tousled hair, patched and stained robes, sharply glinting eyes. Draco didn't rise. He almost did out of habit, but remembered in time.

She took the seat opposite to him, settling into it warily. "Well, what's this about?"

Draco looked at her and didn't reply. Truth be told, he wasn't sure how to reply.

"Well it can't be all that pressing then," said Bones in the brisk manner that she'd never had at Hogwarts. "I assume that it has something to do with the remaining Death Eaters?"

That made Draco frown at her in bemusement. "Not in the least – what in the world gave you that impression?" A moment later it occurred to him that that was the most likely reason for him to want to contact her. Now that the war was technically over and Hottie was no longer secreted, Bones had emerged as the somewhat gloomy face of the legendary organisation.

"What else could we possibly have in common?" she asked, sweeping the room with a vaguely bored gaze.

Draco sighed sharply and leant back in his seat. Lunch had not been a good idea; dinner would not have been a good idea. It was too public. Things had never been public with them. "I wanted to see you for a bit, that's all."

At fifteen Bones would have allowed that excuse, even if she didn't understand it. At twenty-two, Bones was nowhere near as obliging. "I realise that. What for?" Her tone wasn't irate, not yet, but Draco thought that it might get there if he really didn't have a reason behind the invitation.

"I sat with you in Potions a few times," he said coldly, glaring at Bones in a silent dare to contradict him. "I don't know if you remember, but…"

"I remember." Bones closed her menu, discarding it casually on the table. "You sat with me once after that DA meeting."

"It was more than once," replied Draco. "And I discovered, rather to my astonishment that you help keep me sane. So I'd like to see you for a bit."

Bones stared at him and then laughed hollowly in a tone that sounded like it had been torn to shreds. "Gods, Malfoy," she finally said. "I can't even keep myself sane." She started to rise before thinking better of it and sinking warily back into her seat.

The two looked at each other for long moments.

"Lunch wasn't a good idea," Draco commented finally.

Bones shook her head agreeably. Her eyes were still hard and he didn't think she was prepared to forgive him for dragging her out here without a proper reason.

"Like to skip it for a drink?" asked Draco.

Bones shook her head once more. "I only drink on birthdays and at Christmas," she said wistfully, as though the thought of a drink was immeasurably welcome.

"Hot chocolate," said Draco and Bones smiled.

"Speaking of Christmas," said Draco when they had adjourned to the café around the corner and ordered their drinks. "Did you have any plans?"

"Family," said Bones with a grimace.

"Too bad," said Draco. "If that falls through, feel free to head up to the Estate."

"With _my_ family, I'd be tempted to do that anyway."

It was such a far cry from the girl who had practically sparkled when telling him about her exuberantly loving mother and quietly doting father and embarrassingly inquisitive little sister that Draco was compelled to ask, "What's wrong with your family?"

Bones gave a short laugh that could have been designed to cut, it was so razor sharp. "There's _nothing _wrong with them. They're great. That's the whole problem."

"I see," said Draco dryly.

Bones leant forward slightly, elbows on table. "I don't remember that scar on your lip," she commented. It could have been an off-hand remark, but she sounded furious.

Draco couldn't tell whether she was angry that he'd been hurt or whether she was angry that he'd gotten off so lightly. He opted for what he hoped was a neutral response and, motioning vaguely to his lip, said, "This is nothing."

He wasn't lying. The lip was hardly the worst of what had happened to him in the war. And, compared to others, his war experiences had been a walk in the park.

"So," he said, clearing his throat and quickly changing the subject. "I'm glad to see you managed with that Auror business. Was it difficult?"

Bones shrugged as she absent-mindedly built pyramids out of the sugar cubes in the bowl. Despite himself, Draco smiled. She never had been able to leave sugar alone; it was nice to see that some things didn't change. "When the war started they were desperate for anyone they could get," she said, tone cool without any suggestion that she had once desperately wanted to be an Auror, without any suggestion that she took any pride in it now.

Searching for some way to continue the conversation, Draco offered, "You were buried deep. I never heard a word about you all through the war."

"And I only heard bad things about you," said Bones with a wry smile as her sugar cube pyramid quavered.

"And believed them?" queried Draco, his tone somewhat bitter.

"Of course," agreed Bones unapologetically. Then she shrugged. "At first."

Draco knew what she meant but he rubbed the back of his neck and asked, "Wicksworth?" anyway. He wasn't sure what the experience had meant to her, but it had kept him going for most of the war.

Such a little thing.

It had happened so quickly that Draco hadn't been able to process it at first. He'd been at the base in Wicksworth, a rambling country manor that looked as though magic had never so much as brushed by it. As a spy, he was used to being on edge; it was almost second nature to him. And yet, when he stepped into the kitchen that day, he was taken completely by surprise by the voice behind him.

He should have recognised the tone. It had been over a year maybe, but he should have placed the way the voice rolled over the second vowel in 'Avada', smooth and a little hoarse. All he heard was the word though, and his brain froze.

The second part of the killing curse never came. Finally, Draco turned around.

He took in the wand that was pointed at him first, before forcing himself to look beyond it at the witch holding it. She was taller than at Hogwarts; her hair was coming loose from its careful plait and she looked as though someone had drained every drop of blood from her face.

"Malfoy," she said, letting her wand arm drop to her side. "How are you?"

"Good." His voice was too breathless and he couldn't drag his eyes from her. "And you? Is…is your family okay?"

Her eyes narrowed and she nodded curtly. "They're alive," she said, but she didn't sound happy about it.

Draco let out a breath of relief anyway. "Good, I…" Even as he stumbled to find the right thing to say, he realised that there wasn't time. "I've wanted to talk to you a thousand times," he said finally, and it was true, but it wasn't enough.

She looked surprised before her mouth pulled into a wry grimace. "I wish you had," she said and, with a flick of her robes, she was around the corner and racing down the hall.

By the time Draco reached the kitchen doorway, she was gone.


	12. Chapter 12

She seemed casual about it now in the warmth of the coffee shop, hands curled around her mug of hot chocolate. She had seemed casual about it then too; as though breaking into Voldemort's stronghold to murder the Five was normal. As though it was just as normal to stop on her way out to chat to one of the Dark Lord's inner circle.

Draco stretched his spine. "Did you make a habit of letting Death Eaters walk away from you?"

Bones smiled. "I thought it was that I couldn't kill someone who'd been at Hogwarts with me. Someone who'd been in my year," she explained before tilting her head to the side, her brow creasing. She took a breath, "That was before I killed Zabini obviously. I don't know. What do you want me to say? That deep, deep down I knew you were on our side? Well, I didn't. I had no idea. I thought you'd tell You-Know-Who I was an Auror at once. I waited all night for you to come after me."

Trying not to wince, Draco said softly, "I didn't mean to scare you."

Bones gave him an indifferent look. "I wasn't scared," she said and it worried Draco how empty her voice was. Shrugging her shoulders, she dropped her marshmallows into her hot chocolate. "I don't get scared anymore." Draco knew better than to think she was putting on a front. Bones was not the sort to pretend to be braver than she was.

He sat back in his seat and thought about the past few years. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been scared of something. The Forbidden Forest for a long time, and then the idea of his parents dying. Now there were the other Slytherins to be afraid for; and he feared the remaining Death Eaters taking vengeance. Sometimes he still woke from nightmares and walked to his parents' room to check that they were alright before remembering that they weren't. "It must…" he paused, unsure of how to proceed. "It must be hard. Not feeling fear."

"I miss it," said Bones, not sounding like it mattered.

It wasn't right. She was the Hufflepuff; she was meant to be teaching him how breathtaking life could be if he would just give it a chance. He wasn't meant to be trying to convince her.

She ran a hand through her hair and Draco watched her fingers snag in the tangles. "Cho Chang is single," she said eventually.

"So is Adrian Pucey." It only occurred to him after he spoke that Bones had never been the sort to engage in idle gossip.

She was looking puzzled by his comment when he cast her a confused frown though. He had the feeling he'd missed something.

Then her face shuttered off. Draco ran his gaze over her quickly, taking in the narrowed eyes and raised chin. She had finished her drink and he didn't push to stay longer afterwards.

They pulled their cloaks on and walked together down the quiet street. It was snowing again lightly. Draco looked across at Bones; her face was softer when she was concentrating on tucking her scarf around her neck. He was going to ask her out again and she was going to say no. He could tell by the slope of her shoulders. They weren't at ease the way they'd always been before when he was sure of her. When he was sure of her wanting to be with him at least. They were slightly taut, like those of a cat getting ready to run.

But he'd ask her. And then she'd say no.

"Bones," he said pulling up.

She turned and raised her eyebrows, not looking exceptionally interested. Draco paused and dug his hands into his pockets. So this would be the last he saw of her. Flushed, with snow-flakes clinging to her hair and her eyes less Avada Kedavra green than ever. He wished she'd killed him at Wicksworth. At least then she'd looked alive.

"Care to have coffee again?" he asked and was dismayed to find that his voice suddenly didn't sound like his. Christ, he sounded like his father.

She didn't bother smiling to soften her words, shaking her head instead. "Better if we don't," she said, turning away.

Draco let her go; watched her stride away, hands tucked into her pockets, closed off to the world.

Then he turned and, with the least movement possible, he smashed his fist into a Muggle car four times, fast. He would have kept going. He felt no desire in the world to stop, but as his fist was about to connect for the fifth time there was the sharp cracking sound of Apparition and a hand grabbed his shoulder, jerking him around. His shoulder hit the car, and he found himself staring at Bones.

"Really," she said, her voice cold but utterly without emotion.

Draco reached for her instinctively, fingers curling in his gloves as he moved. Before he touched her she jolted backwards, bristling like an irate cat, eyes narrowed and furious.

Letting himself slump back against the car, Draco struggled to pull himself together. The struggle was brief; and he lost. "Fuck," he snapped, slamming the side of his fist back into the car. "Just fucking leave. You don't want to be here; fucking go!"

A shadow passed across her gaze and for a moment he thought she was going to hit him. Not out of anger, but to slap some sense into him. Instead she caught his shoulder with one hand and pulled, fingers digging in to him painfully even through the thick layer of winter cloak.

She didn't say anything, but her motivation was clear. The misdirection and concealment charms built into most wizarding cloaks against Muggles would only do so much; and generally covering a wizard attacking a Muggle vehicle would be beyond its limits to conceal.

She turned him up the street and they walked in silence. Bones unwrapped her scarf from her neck and passed it to Draco, presumably to wrap his hand with. He hadn't noticed it was bleeding. The distance needed for the misdirection charms to be able to reassert themselves had probably been covered but if Draco mentioned that Bones would probably leave. Before long they turned into a narrow alley and walked the length of it, then turned into another alley from there.

Finally Bones started laughing. She stopped and leant against the grimy wall and covered her face with her hands and laughed. The laughter was hollow and haunted and hysterical, seeming to echo in on itself. She sank to sit by the wall finally, her laughter dying to a silence that was even more frightening. She had a smear of blood on her face. Draco's blood.

He'd been told that she was going mad. He hadn't believed it. It was Bones. Susan Bones, no less. Susan Bones who, after the war, had received all of forty-nine medals. Forty-nine. She beat Mad-Eye Moody thrice over.

He was believing it now. "Let's get you a drink."

"Only Christmas and birthdays," she replied, muffled with her hands still over her face.

"You need one," Draco pointed out. He wasn't used to being gentle, but he was trying for her.

"If I had a drink every time I needed one, Malfoy…" Bones began sharply and then let out a sob. "I should have died in the war," she said finally, her voice soft and wistful. "Some people are made for war."

"That's not your problem," said Draco reaching for her wrists and pulling her to her feet. "I'm going to Apparate you to my place," he said softly, closing his arms around her.

"I don't like your place," she protested.

He smirked down at her and was surprised that it made her relax. "Yes, I know," he said. "It looks like dead people live there. It should suit you fine."

And Bones actually laughed, a real laugh, before Draco Apparated them away.


	13. Chapter 13

They wound up in his lounge room and he set Bones on the modern white sofa.

"I'm a mess," she said.

Draco was pretty sure that there was no polite response to that so he shrugged. "You've been through a lot." It had never mattered before, saying the wrong thing around her but she'd never been this volatile before either.

"No. My clothes," she said, raising her arms to indicate her robes. "I'm going to stain your furniture."

Draco stared at her. There was a smear of something grey across the skirt of her robes, probably from the alley wall, but she couldn't possibly think that he cared about that. He would have said something incredibly impolite but he'd sworn in front of her once already today and, despite what certain unkind people insinuated, he had been raised with some decorum. "It doesn't matter," he said. He wished that he could be more vehement about the whole thing but he was too exhausted suddenly.

"Is it lonely," she asked, glancing around the lounge. "Living by yourself here?"

There was no way that Draco was going to sit beside her when she was so fragile, so he took the armchair by the fireplace. "I'm used to being lonely," he said.

"Guess that's what comes when you kill family," said Bones, tapping a foot casually against the tiles. "Did you kill your mother as well?"

Cruelty on her was as shocking as cruelty on a Hufflepuff should be. "You're just trying to upset me now," murmured Draco.

"Is it working?" she asked, sounding utterly disinterested.

Brow furrowing, Draco leant forward. "I'm worried about you."

Bones smiled her disinterested smile and stretched slowly, spine cracking quietly. "You may not have learnt the concept of triage during the war."

Strange topic, but if she wanted to change the subject, Draco wasn't going to circumvent her. "Of course I did." At her raised eyebrow, he shrugged, "In battle there are three types of wounded; those who will likely die, those who need immediate attention to survive and those who can wait. With triage when there's too many wounded you skip the ones who are beyond help in lieu of the ones who will probably live with help."

"Exactly," said Bones as though Draco had just answered his own question. He frowned, because he hadn't asked a question. Mouth quirking up a little at the corner, Bones leant back into the couch. "Skip the ones who are beyond help, Malfoy," she said nonchalantly, flicking a hand. "Go and worry about the ones who will probably live; with help."

For a moment, Draco didn't understand what she was saying. When it hit him, fear slid down his spine, making him shiver. It quickly gave way to anger. "You're not beyond help!" he snapped, too loud and too intense a tone for this echoing room.

It didn't move her. "You think that I'm not. I know that I am." Smoothing her hair down with steady fingers, she met Draco's gaze. Even in this she did not waver. "If anyone knows how to give up on someone, it's you." Her voice had never been as caramel-smooth as this when she'd cared. "You gave up on your own father; and you loved him."

Recoiling as though struck, Draco gasped out, "Stop."

She rested her elbow on the arm of her couch, hand dangling over her lap. She still looked bored. "Cho Chang is single," she said. Draco had no idea why she kept telling him that. "She's strongly against the Dark Arts. If you need to marry into respectability; she's the way to go."

"Marry…" began Draco, baffled. Then the words clicked together in his head and he choked out, "_Cho Chang?_"

"I suspect that she already likes you," offered Bones. "And I don't know much about you but I imagine that you'll treat her reasonably well."

Draco had no idea how she managed to bewilder him so often and with so little effort. "I will not treat her well." His reply was coherent only because his dignity would not allow him to stare at her open-mouthed in response. "I won't have anything to do with her. And I don't know why you'd think she likes me. The woman can't stand the sight of me."

That made Bones frown. "Perhaps," she said after a flicker of a pause. "She's changed her mind since Hogwarts. I'm sure she liked you in sixth year."

She could have misread things somehow though. There wasn't much to base the assumption on. She'd been heading up the stairs, ready for bed when an anxious Cho Chang had pushed her way into the Hufflepuff Common Room, demanding to see her.

It couldn't be that something was wrong with Harry and Cho was searching for help from the other D.A. members. Ernie and Zacharias were right by the fireplace, doing Charms homework and Cho didn't spare them a glance.

Although Bones knew Cho from some classes and the D.A., they were not close. The only other reason that Cho could possibly want to seek her out for, was if something had happened to her family. Dropping her bag onto the stairs, Bones crossed the room to the door.

Cho's face was strained, cheeks streaked with tears of shock. Bones was less worried. She took a breath and thought about her family. You-Know-Who had hunted her blood-line during the last war; he had no cause to stop. Her father would have tried to die first; he would have thrown himself in front of her mother and Helen, if he could have. Her mother was fury-bent. She would have kept herself in front of Helen and fought until every ounce of life had slipped from her. Bones couldn't bring herself to care about either of them. But…

"Is Helen alright?" Her voice was calm. Even with Helen she couldn't seem to worry very extensively. Perhaps she'd worried too much the previous year and her body was too exhausted to keep it up.

"What?"

Bones was even less interested in what had happened now. It seemed such a waste of time to pretend to care about something that didn't make a difference to her. "Helen. My sister."

Cho looked taken aback. "Oh," she said finally. "It's nothing about them. But you have to come now! Before curfew."

This was peculiar; it cheered Bones up quite remarkably. Strange happenings seemed the only thing that made her happy any more.

Cho took her to the infirmary, which was more peculiar still. Perhaps Padma Patil had been hurt. Bones got along quite well with her.

But when they'd arrived, Draco Malfoy was lying in one of the narrow white beds, looking more fragile than Bones thought possible. The air fled from her; scattering just out of reach and she almost fell. Then she remembered that she didn't care, and wondered why this mattered. People shouldn't be hurt like this in schools; but it hadn't mattered when Katie Bell had been cursed and there was no reason for this to matter either.

Madam Pomfrey had left some candles burning softly just far enough away from the bed to be of comfort without distracting the recuperating party. Bones turned to Cho, who was watching the unmoving figure with an expression of anxiety and dismay. "Do you want me to stay with you?" she asked. She didn't ask why Cho cared so much about a Slytherin that almost everyone had written off as a Death Eater because she refused to write people off without proof. She did wonder though, what had happened to make Cho so distraught over a Malfoy.

"I can't stay," said Cho, eyes not moving from the bed Draco was tucked into. "I thought it would be best…if you sat with him."

It was a strange thing to say, but if Cho couldn't stay and she wanted to make sure that Draco wasn't alone, Bones was probably a reasonable substitute. She had been in the D.A. so Cho knew she wasn't afraid to break curfew, she wouldn't judge or hurt Draco should he wake like the Gryffindors might, and she wasn't afraid of him like Neville and Hannah were.

"What happened to him?" Bones asked, taking the seat by his bed, as Cho turned to leave.

"Harry cursed him," said Cho, her voice soft and breaking as she spoke. She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

Curiosity more than concern prompted Bones to ask, "Was he jealous?"

Cho turned back to stare at her, looking as though she had lost her way somewhere in this conversation. People had been doing that a lot lately. "Jealous?"

Bones hadn't missed the way Harry had watched Cho during D.A. meetings; eyes soft and dark and always flicking back to her. He hated Malfoy anyway, but if Cho had started something with the Slytherin it might have been the added push Harry needed to really hurt him. She didn't point that out. "I'll stay," she said instead. The notion wasn't an appealing one, but she thought that she'd managed to keep the callous dryness from her voice until Cho turned to stare her straight in the eye.

"Try not to be so cold," she said flatly. "He almost died."

That didn't matter either. Cedric had died. So had her aunt. And if those deaths had not moved her, this near death had no chance. "I'll do what I can," she said, because she still believed in the war and in allies and in helping allies hold it together.

Cho's eyes narrowed, not moving from Bones' face for long seconds. Then she spun on her heel and left; footsteps falling fast as she tried to make it back to her room before curfew.

Bones stayed with Draco through the night, as she had promised. She had always kept promises; even now when the world was falling apart and she was tearing with it. Draco woke once, turned in bed and whined in pain. Bones didn't move. She could have tried to comfort him; she had been good at that sort of thing once, being a Hufflepuff. She wasn't good at it any more; though, to be fair, she didn't try any more.

Draco turned his head, eyes falling on her in the low light. He tried to speak, winced and then tried again, "Hey."

"You should sleep."

He blinked at her, as though taken aback by her terseness. People had been doing that a lot lately too. Finally he turned his body towards her, grimacing as he did so. "I heard about your aunt."

Most people had. Bones nodded acknowledgement of the comment and was glad that he didn't try to tell her how sorry he was. It wasn't comfortable to have strangers more sorry about her aunt's death than she was.

"I met her once," he said. He was speaking slowly and carefully as though it hurt. "She scared me to death."

That wasn't surprising. Madam Bones had always been fair, but she was intimidating and even she would probably have had trouble being impartial with Draco Malfoy.

"You're not…" said Draco, looking worried. Bones had never seen him look worried for anyone else. "You're not okay?"

"I'm not the one lying in the infirmary bed," Bones pointed out.

His eyes darkened. She didn't know what he was feeling, but she could tell it wasn't anger. "Merlin," he barely breathed, hand going to his mid-section. "I can't…Stay with me…until I wake up?" He was begging but that made no difference.

"I don't make promises," said Bones. "That I have no intention of keeping."

He might have said more if he had not passed out. Bones stayed with him until he woke in the morning. It felt a little like she cared; but her emotions were not to be trusted. She was probably just over-tired. Or relieved that Helen was safe.

Leaning back in his armchair, five years later, Draco frowned. He was still lean; but nothing about him looked brittle now. "Chang sent you to the infirmary that night?"

Bones tilted her head to study him. "You remember it?"

"Of course." Draco was actually scowling now.

"I suppose," said Bones. "That it's difficult to forget having your stomach ripped apart."

Draco stroked a hand down the torso of his robes, flushing self-consciously. Bones had not yet forgiven Harry for that one stupid act in the girls' bathrooms so many years ago. He'd saved countless witches, wizards, muggles, centaurs, goblins and House-elves since. He'd changed from the thoughtless, spontaneous boy he'd been; but she had expected more from the saviour of the wizarding world and he had failed her.

"It didn't matter," he muttered. "It made You-Know-Who more convinced I was on his side so…"

Bones wondered whether Harry had understood that they needed a spy and Draco had understood that he'd have to make sacrifices to prove loyalty to the Dark Lord. "Was it planned?" she asked. "Did you arrange to be cursed by Harry?"

Draco merely shook his head. "Nothing like that, but it worked in my favour in its own way."

The shadows outside were growing long and it occurred to Bones that the time she had set aside for this lunch was well over. Still, Draco hated people to merely walk out on him and strangely enough, in this she wanted him to be comfortable. "I need to go."

He looked surprised before nodding. "I'll see you out."

She tried not to ponder the fact that five years ago people had been surprised when she was abrupt or rude to them and now they were surprised when she was polite. Dwelling on such issues only confused her, so she didn't.


	14. Chapter 14

He walked her to the door, with all the courtesy that could be expected from one of his social position. Being unused to ceremony, it made Bones nervous. She was expected to be able to handle this sort of thing, as the face of Hottie. It didn't seem to get any easier though.

He said her name as she was about to walk down the front porch steps and she turned back to him even though she wanted nothing more than to leave. Draco was leaning in the doorway and he grimaced as though regretting what he was about to say even before saying it. "If there's ever anything you want; ask," he said finally, the words coming out like an order or a threat. Something violent anyway.

Bones wouldn't, but she nodded her head forward ever so slightly. She knew that most Ministry factions would kill to have Draco Malfoy make that offer to them; she had never sullied Hottie with anything that could be construed as a bribe though. And she was sure that this offer, however baffling and unexpected, was genuine without hidden motive, but she didn't like to be indebted. "Hottie has pretty much everything it needs," she said.

Draco's eyes darkened with that inscrutable expression that Bones had seen on him a few times. Not anger, but not a pleasant emotion either. "I don't mean Hottie," he said. "I mean you. If you ever want anything…"

Bones tilted her head at him. There was nothing in the world that she wanted. Nothing that could be given at least. Her wants were too abstract. She wanted to feel like herself again. She wanted to be afraid of dying. To be afraid that those around her might die. She nodded though. "If I want anything I'll know where to come."

The hairs on the back of her arms prickled in discomfort under her robes and cloak. Even if that had not warned her, she would have known that someone was coming up the stairs behind her from the flash of recognition in Draco's eyes.

"Not here." The voice was cold and strangely brittle; it wasn't familiar.

Bones turned her head. She recognised the young man on the stairs beside her vaguely, but it took her a few moments to tie his face to a name. This possibly had something to do with the fact that he was glowering at her and she had never seen him glower before. "Nott," she said. "Theodore?"

His gaze did not warm. "Fuck," he said. "Off."

She laughed; because it was unexpected and she liked unexpected things. Nott hadn't been someone she'd much noticed at Hogwarts, and she didn't remember having seen him since; but from the small details she did remember of him, he had been quiet. Watchful rather than forceful.

Draco, rather than being amused, sounded scandalised. "Nott!" he snapped, voice darkly furious.

"You're not welcome here." Nott's gaze went from Bones to Draco, his eyes narrowing further, "Tell her she's not welcome," he demanded. It was obvious that he did not for a moment expect that Draco would refuse.

But he did. His brow furrowed and he met Nott's gaze steadily. "She is welcome here. Of course she is."

"You're an idiot." Nott didn't yell. His voice was low and menacing in a way that only Slytherin voices ever were. With one last, disgusted glance at Bones, he loped up the remaining steps and shouldered his way past Draco into the apartment with a force that was likely to bruise.

Once it would have taken Bones some effort not to laugh at that; now she wasn't careful enough of other people's feelings to suppress her laughter. Rather than offending Draco, however, the laugh made him relax. "Merlin," he said, rolling his eyes in affectionate exasperation. "I wish I could explain…" Something loud crashed in the apartment behind him and he winced a little before sighing.

"I don't," said Bones. "I like to come up with explanations on my own. It's so rare really that things are puzzling."

That made Draco smile at her; eyes softening as he levered himself off the door-frame. "Well," he said, turning to go back inside. "If you work it out, let me know."

"Blaise Zabini," said Bones and he stopped, but did not turn back to her. "I killed him. If Nott was his friend then there's no puzzle to it."

"That's a rational explanation," agreed Draco. Bones couldn't see his face, but from his tone she could tell that her rational explanation was also wrong. Not that he seemed to be trying to let her know she was off the mark; in fact, Bones suspected that he would have preferred her to make a mistake in the matter. But his voice was just a little too fast and casual when he'd agreed with her assessment. Which meant that he not only knew what the real issue was, but he didn't want her to know it.

Bones loved the times when she could feel the plot thickening around her; and this was one of them. But she'd work it out later, when she could ask Hermione or Hannah a little more about Theodore Nott's temperament.

She left Draco to go back inside and salvage whatever vases or plates Nott hadn't smashed and walked along the street. She'd intended to go back to Hottie and finish up some paperwork on two Death Eaters that she suspected were hiding out in Berlin, but was reconsidering it for a walk in the snow-laden streets.

Finally she decided to do both. Hottie was a reasonably long walk away; but she would walk there and do the research once she arrived.

By the time she stumbled, shivering through Hottie's main doors she had a considerable stash of possible rationalizations for Nott's anger.

"Jesus, Bones, were you out in that?" demanded Hermione, looking up from the reception desk as Bones sank into the armchair opposite.

The weather outside was appalling, and perhaps walking in it had not been the most sensible idea. "Hn." Bones sank her teeth into the tip of the finger of her right glove and tugged it off before pulling her wand to levitate a new log onto the fire in the grate.

"Flips sake," said Hermione irritably, pushing her chair out. "Do you want a tea or a coffee?"

"No, no, you have to stay," said Bones very definitely. "Get those horrid twins to fetch me drinks. I need to ask you questions."

Sighing, Hermione sank back into her chair before scribbling a note on a scrap of parchment and letting it fly off to find the closest Weasley twin. "Very well," she said. "What questions? I take it you have a new investigation underway?"

Bones considered. "Yes," she said finally. "Very new. Now, what do you know about Theodore Nott?"

"Theodore Nott?" Hermione's eyebrows rose. "Well, I think we've ruled him off our list as a possible Death Eater. He may have been a sympathiser, but not an active one. And there's no law against being sympathetic…"

Waving a hand dismissively, Bones said, "I'm not asking about that. I was curious as to whether his relationship with Draco Malfoy was romantic."

Hermione choked.

Leaning back in her chair and pulling off her other glove, Bones pressed her lips together in thought. "Does that mean that you _know_ it's not or that you doubt it is?" she asked.

Gathering herself back together, Hermione gave Bones a sour look. She hated being caught off guard as Bones was very well aware. "I think that you're more in a position to say what sort of relationship Draco Malfoy might get himself into with Theodore Nott," she said tartly. "And it may be your business, but it certainly isn't mine."

"It isn't mine either, of course," said Bones, twirling her gloves as she spoke. "But I saw Nott today and the way he reacted to me was quite curious. I'm trying to work him out." After a moment, she stopped twirling her gloves and frowned. "Why would I be more in a position to say what sort of relationship Malfoy might get himself into?"

Giving a sigh of exasperation that Bones thought was totally unwarranted, Hermione threw her quill down. "For God's sake, Bones, I've only ever seen Malfoy look at one girl like he would gladly die or abscond Slytherin or whatever for them. Just one. I don't think that he'd choose to be with anyone else. Maybe as a convenience but not in any other capacity."

Bones chewed her thumbnail as she considered Hermione's theory. She had never seen Draco look at anyone like they were more important (or even as important) as him. "Who was this girl?" she asked.

Hermione stood up, shoving her chair back so hard that it crashed to the floor. "Look, find someone else," she snapped. "I'm not going to sit here playing this game with you; I have actual work to do." She was angrier about the situation than she'd usually be but Bones didn't try to appease her as she gathered her scrolls and stalked off to her own office.

She twirled her gloves some more and thought about Nott. He wouldn't be upset that she was in Hottie. It was one of the easiest explanations; Hottie was dedicated to bringing Dark Wizards down, and it was very good at what it did after all. Slytherins had had enough of a sense of self preservation after the war to never be openly heated about law enforcement agencies though as most law enforcement agencies took such things as a sign of guilt.

A mug of steaming hot chocolate was set down on the desk in front of her and Bones looked up to find George Weasley studying her. "Are you jealous?" he asked, reaching out with the hand that wasn't petting her hair to pull the other armchair across.

"If that's your hot chocolate, I am," said Bones as the aroma of it hit her. "I will hex you for it."

"This is why Hermione didn't send Fred out," said George, sinking into his chair.

Sometimes Bones wondered whether there were psychological side-effects to the twins' joke shop items, because sometimes the twins just didn't make sense. She hazarded a guess at his cryptic meaning anyway. "Because you can take a hex better than he can?"

George sighed and smacked Bones across the back of the head. "I'm not Fred," he pointed out rather unnecessarily. "I'm not going to take the easy path and shrug all of this off as some sort of casual joke. Are you jealous of Nott?" He was speaking in that easy mix of sympathy and demand that he had used so many times when things were tough during the war.

"Nott? Theodore Nott?" There was definitely something wrong with the twins' joke supplies. Perhaps they had fermented, or exceeded their use by dates. George was being vastly more incomprehensible than usual.

"Bones." She recognised this tone from the war too. It was the one he only ever used on her, because she was the only one who ever locked herself away and didn't eat for days as she tried to figure out how to stop You-Know-Who and how to keep everyone alive and how to make everything _work_. He still sounded worried and angry; and pained, as though she was being cruel and hurting him on purpose. "It's obvious that you want that Malfoy git. And I think you're being stupid. He's proven himself unworthy…"

"What is this?" Bones choked out. She could feel her face flaming. It was in embarrassment, but embarrassment that evidently everyone at the headquarters thought that she had some sad little obsession with Draco Malfoy of all people, not embarrassment at any unlikely truth that the notion might hold. "What makes you think I want _anything_ to do with Draco Malfoy?" It was more disturbing that Hermione thought it though, really, because she usually had some basis for such things.

George sighed. "I can't talk to you when you're like this."

"George." Bones could tell that he wanted to storm off but something in her voice held him. She leant toward him. "There's nothing between me and Malfoy. I don't know what rumours are going around, but they're not true."

Passing a hand through his hair, George sighed again, more sadly. "I know you – you guys kept things pretty secret at Hogwarts," he said. Bones stared at him in stunned silence, wondering where he was getting this stuff from. There had been rumours circulating at Hogwarts, but she hadn't paid them much heed. Schools always had rivulets of gossip running through them, but Bones had had more important things to focus on than what people were saying about her and Malfoy. Even so the rumours had gotten back to her through both Cho Chang and Pansy Parkinson. Her closest friend in school, Hannah Abbot had seemed to believe them too. "But it was pretty obvious when he stopped sitting with you in Potions. And then…" He faltered, looked away from Bones and went on with all of his usual Gryffindor resolution. "When he killed Dumbledore, you fell apart."

"So he sat with me once or twice in Potions and I was upset when Dumbledore died," said Bones with an incredulous laugh. "Harry was upset when Dumbledore died too, and no one tries to tell him that he has an unhealthy obsession with Malfoy."

"He hasn't forgiven the git without even seeming to expect an explanation."

"I have nothing to forgive!" Bones almost yelled in frustration. "He was on our side; we have enough people to testify that he was spying for us. Hell, _I_ testified that he was spying for us. What do you want me to do? Demand that he crawl and beg forgiveness for doing a job that we _needed_ done?"

"Not everything's about the war!" George exploded, his calm snapping. "You can't forgive people for doing the right thing in a war when they've done the wrong thing by you personally! You go on like the only thing in the world that matters is this bloody horrible war; and you don't care about anything else!"

Bones hadn't been close to the twins or Hermione before they'd been in the D.A. together, and by then much of what happened with Malfoy had fallen by the way-side. She could remember though, the alleged Mudblood slurs and rumours that Malfoy insulted the Weasley family as cruelly as possible any chance he had. Those rumours, like most rumours, she had paid no heed to. She preferred to see things for herself before casting judgement. "I'm sorry," she said now, because perhaps she should have thought about the rumours when they involved her friends. "I didn't know…" She wasn't sure how to finish. _I didn't know he'd hurt you so much? I didn't know the extent of what was done?_ She didn't think that either response would be taken well so she left the sentiment unfinished.

"We need you," said George. "We don't need you to get rid of the last of the Death Eaters or to be the face of our organisation so that the wizarding world can feel safe in the knowledge that something's being done to keep them protected. We need you for day to day life. I know you're not getting better right now, but don't do something that will make you worse." He was more likely to be serious than his twin; but it still wasn't a regular occurrence so his words hit home more than Hermione's had when she'd offered similar sentiments.

Bones wished that she could tell him that she'd be fine once the world was righted. That she'd be the same Hufflepuff girl he'd met; too naive to get all of the jokes he told, but cheerfully resolved to be pleased with any pranks that were tried on her. She didn't break promises though, so she said nothing.

The twins were closer to Bones than most of the other Hottie members. They could take her sharpness more easily; it didn't hurt them so much when she was cruel. So George read more into her silence than Hermione or Fleur or Krum would have. He only sighed though. They'd given up on trying with her; because she was determined not to try with herself.

* * *

**Okay, I think this one is more confusing than any of them so far. Bear with it. Next chapter starts to explain (flipping finally)**


	15. Chapter 15

On coming back to the lounge room, Draco found that it was no longer pristine. In fact, he'd been on raids with Death Eaters and some of the houses had been left in better condition than this. Theo was leaning against the mantelpiece, casually swinging the fireplace poker with his fingertips. Draco knew Nott as well as most people knew their siblings; everything about him was screaming that he'd made a resolution on something and that all that was left was to achieve it. He was not the type to make resolutions, but Draco had never seen him fail in one once he'd decided upon it.

Trying not to wince, Draco raised his shoulders and let them drop. "So," he said.

"You're to tell her that you won't see her again." Theo's words were clipped; and more markedly angry than Draco had ever heard him.

Taking a breath, Draco shook his head. "I can't," he said, not letting his voice tremble as it so badly wanted to.

When Theo's brows rose, Draco tried frantically to assemble some form of logical game-plan in his head. He hadn't expected to have to so soon, but going up against Nott when he was determined required more than hope or luck. He was worried, but Nott had always given in to him before. Just so long as he gave him a good enough reason.

"It's nothing serious." He was pleased that his tone came out with the right amount of casual indifference. "We're just…"

"I don't want an explanation. I want a vow that this will end."

"I told you, I can't give you that."

Shrugging his narrow shoulders casually, Nott looked down at the poker he was holding. "I'll go to Parkinson then," he said mildly.

"No!" When the resolve did not melt from Nott's face, Draco resorted to begging. "Nott, no. Look, Bones is going through a really hard time right now…"

"As delighted as I am to hear that; I'm afraid I must insist on the vow."

Draco switched straight to negotiation. He was good with negotiation; mostly because he could annoy people into compliance. "Give me a month. Just one. If a month doesn't…"

"No." It was only then that Draco realised that the usually malleable Nott was implacable about this. "I get the vow from you here and now, or I go and fetch Parkinson and we'll extract the vow from Bones. I warn you, should it come to that, I will be considerably less pleasant about the whole thing."

The last time Nott had made a statement like that, he had followed it up by tearing a Death Eater to pieces; managing the task with what had seemed like ease even through a complicated protection spell. It was the only kill Nott had made through the war, and had left Draco with screaming nightmares of misty sprays of blood and bone. He wondered whether Nott had chosen those words and that phrasing because he had wanted to forcibly remind Draco that he had only ever killed to save him. Probably. No matter that Nott was as loyal as a Hufflepuff and as brave as a Gryffindor; he was also as Slytherin as a Slytherin. He knew how to plot and manipulate and win with the best of them.

"I love her," said Draco. He wasn't above emotional manipulation himself and, though he'd chosen his words with almost callous care, they came out raw and vulnerable and more honest than he was comfortable with. He swallowed and looked away.

"I don't give a damn."

That startled Draco into looking at him.

He was standing as he had been before, leaning gently against the mantelpiece; but his shoulders were tense and his eyes were hard and furiously cold. "If you're planning on choosing her, tell me now so I can let the others know."

"Choose? Nott, this isn't like that. I'm not dumping my friends for her…"

"If you take her back, we'll dump you." It wasn't a threat, it was a promise. Draco swallowed again. He wouldn't lose Parkinson, Crabbe or Goyle over this. The others, maybe. Probably. It didn't matter, because Nott would stand by his word and losing Nott was too much.

"Please, Nott. Trust me on this?"

Theo's composure shattered. "Like I did last time?" he almost yelled, hurling the poker at Draco. Draco knew Nott better than to flinch; and he was right, the poker sailed harmlessly past him. It missed by a mile. "We all knew what she was! Hufflepuffs are inherently weak. And I trusted you to keep your distance. You failed all of us."

"Theo…"

"How can you choose her?" Nott's voice was torn ragged. Even when he had killed that Death Eater so long ago, he had not been as distraught as this. "What has she ever done to deserve you?" He was quiet and not demonstrative and Draco was used to reading between the lines with him; so he heard the unspoken feelings as well as the spoken ones. He was asking why he wasn't enough, when he had betrayed the only family he had left for Draco. Why Pansy wasn't enough, when she had actually joined his side and fought through the war without so much as flinching in the line of fire. Why he would fail them all again for someone who had not sacrificed anything for him.

"Bones isn't weak," said Draco.

"She was strong enough to drag you down." Nott turned away and swore violently. He never swore. His father had been old enough to be his grandfather, and although he'd been a Death Eater, he had also been refined. Abnormally polite. The manners had rubbed off on his son. "Can't you see what she's doing? You're a Slytherin, you're meant to be able to see when someone's manipulating you."

"She's not manipulating me."

"She can't stand the sight of you during the war, and now that it's over and you're an upstanding member of society, she's visiting as though everything's fine?"

"We're trying to…"

"Malfoy." Nott was speaking quietly again, but the tone of his voice made Draco break off. There was violence in his voice still, but it was tempered with fear; and Draco knew that it was fear for him. "My father is dead because you had to take that girl's side. Your father is dead because you would not let her alone. Is she back now to try and spy on your friends, figure out if they're Death Eaters?"

"No."

"And you're sure about that?" Draco could tell that Nott had already made his mind up on the matter. "Because you know what happened last time you trusted her…"

It wasn't panic that made him give in and tell the truth finally. Nott had sacrificed as much as Draco had for the war and he had never even liked Bones. He deserved to know the truth. And Draco couldn't stand hearing that shattered, hopeless note in his voice; like the world had fallen apart all over again. "She can't remember me." He'd always expected that if he had to say those terrible words his voice would break trying to get them out. It didn't however, hardening instead until it was full of frost.

A look of confusion crossed Nott's features. "What?" Draco took a breath, but Nott held up a hand, a frown settling across his face as the words sunk in. "Gods, Malfoy. What have you done?"

Draco laughed hollowly. "You're not to tell Parkinson," he said flatly. "She's not to find out until I fix things. Bones is…Bones is going mad I think."

"You…were trying to protect her?" Nott's tone was cautiously neutral, but he was holding himself stiffly as he always did when he found something distasteful.

Draco laughed again shortly, the sound acridly bitter even to his own ears. He ran a hand through his hair. "I would never cut her mind apart. Not even to protect her."

For a long moment Nott didn't speak, and Draco thought that perhaps, in his quiet Nott way, he was letting the matter go. And then he asked, "Do you expect me to keep guessing?"

Shaking his head, Draco said, "I guess not. Did you want to sit in the kitchen?"

He was grateful that Nott didn't protest. He didn't think that his legs would hold him up much longer.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey guys, sorry for the delay! Was hoping to get this up by Christmas for the person who would be the best sister in the world; if she didn't have so much competition, but I'm sure she'll forgive the tardiness...**

Theo sat at the floating bar and Draco paced the kitchen, considering how best to explain the situation. Nott didn't seem impatient though, he was chewing his lower lip, eyes dark in thought.

"So," Draco said finally, tone irritable as he reached for the bottle of scotch. "You know I'm terrible at explaining things. Ask me a question or something."

Theo stopped chewing his lip and looked up from the bench he'd been staring at. "I don't need to," he said. "I understand the situation now."

"What?" Draco clattered the bottle against the counter and turned to frown at Nott.

Theo smiled easily. "Don't sound so put out. I've always been faster than you."

"In your mind," countered Draco, scowling. They knew each other well enough now that Nott's smile merely grew.

After a moment he turned away to study the clock hanging on the wall. Draco saw his narrow shoulders tense as they did when he braced himself for something unpleasant. "No," he said frostily before Nott could ask the question. "I did not obliviate her. How could you even think it?"

"You," said Nott, his tone decidedly calm as his shoulders relaxed. "Have done other things I would never believe you capable of for that girl." He still couldn't keep the note of resigned bitterness from his voice when talking about Bones. His gaze flickered to Draco and away again almost too casually. "If you were outed as a spy in the war, she would have been safer had she not known you."

It was true but Draco flinched anyway.

"I always thought," said Theo. Then he shrugged as though it didn't matter. But it was a shrug and it was Theo, so of course it did matter. Nott could be read through his shoulders. Nothing else gave him away. With Pansy, you could always tell just what she was thinking by her face. She hid her emotions from no one. Crabbe shuffled his feet when he had something to hide and Goyle fidgeted, unable to keep his hands still. But for Nott it was shoulders.

Draco tilted his chin up and raised an eyebrow. They were still used to bending to him; all of them. Nott gave in now too. "You were always so ashamed of her," he said, looking Draco straight in the eye. Frowning to himself, he amended, "You always _seemed_ so ashamed of her. It never occurred to me that you were hiding her to protect her."

Draco gave a short, sharp bark of laughter and shrugged his own shoulders. He had been ashamed of her at first. Of course he had. There was nothing in her to be proud of, or even to be neutral about. And they were school kids; it had never occurred to him that he needed to protect her from anything. Cedric Diggory might have died but, to Draco, school was a sanctuary and no one's life or death could ever depend on what he did there.

Bones was flawed on a level that tainted her right to her soul. Draco was well aware of that stain; he couldn't look at her without seeing it. There was no room in his life for something as imperfect as her; nor did he wish there to be.

Only…

It still rankled that she had seen through him as she had. It burnt him with a bile-hot, black rage that refused to subside, and he wanted to hurt her for it.

He couldn't pin her. Try as he might, she would always twist and turn just so and his theories on her would be utterly shattered, and she would still be free with no notion of how much he wanted to crush her.

He turned to Zabini again finally, having run out of options on his own.

"Tell me something about the Bones girl," he'd snarled at dinner after the final source he'd had on her had run dry without proving fruitful. "Tell me what she wants. Her goals, dreams, anything."

Zabini had raised one perfect eyebrow before glancing across to the Hufflepuff table. "Why does it matter?"

"It does," Draco assured him. He was not going anywhere near the question of why.

Leaning back on the bench, Zabini scratched his jaw with his thumbnail, running his gaze casually across the room. "I imagine she's the same as any other girl," he said eventually. "She's not as pretty so she won't be as used to attention, it should make her easier to manipulate."

"You're suggesting I seduce her?" Draco didn't bother trying to keep the contempt from his voice.

"If you want to make her suffer," agreed Zabini. He made a face. "I wouldn't do it personally, but you seem determined."

"Not _that_ determined," said Draco with certainty. But the suggestion did give him an idea. The Hufflepuff would probably be grateful for any attention really, even if it wasn't romantic attention. He didn't have to have anything to do with her publicly; and Hufflepuffs were hardly the secretive sort. If he did make friends with her then she would give him ammunition to use against her. He would just need to be patient.

"You have a plan." Blaise's tone was bored and the words were not a question.

Draco smiled. "Perhaps."

"It's very cruel." Again not a question.

Draco's smile became sharper. "Let's hope so."

Bones was moving now; laughing about something as she walked alongside Hannah Abbott, heading for the doors.

A smile flickered around the corners of Zabini's mouth. "Go get her, tiger," he said, tone still bored.

Smirking, with a trace of scorn, Draco stretched casually, tossing his half eaten dinner roll back onto his plate.

He wasn't in a hurry. The two Hufflepuffs wouldn't get to the quieter corridors that led to their dorms for a while, and he wasn't about to approach them until they were out of sight of most of the school.

When he reached the corridor outside the kitchens, Bones was leaning against the wall halfway down the hall and laughing so hard that her body shook. "Stop, stop," she whined piteously, gasping for breath and clutching her stomach as though she was afraid she was going to vomit. "Can't brea..the…"

Abbott tossed her hair. "He kept looking at me," she said. "Like this."

Bones waved her away weakly, but Hannah Abbott made a face at her and Bones collapsed to her arse on the floor, sagged against the wall and howled with laughter.

It was incredibly unsophisticated. Bones had evidently lost control to a point that she could not physically breathe; her face was rose pink with exertion and her hair was tearing free from its neat plait in clumps. Draco loathed the disgusting little part of himself that wanted to smile along with the laughter.

He walked forward with a scowl instead. Abbott saw him first, glancing across before the smile died on her face to be replaced with caution that was edged with hostility. As though sensing her friend's change of mood, Bones turned her head. Vestiges of laughter remained around the curl of her lips and the warmth of her eyes. When she saw Draco her smile grew, rather than disappearing.

She held her arms out and Draco wondered what she was doing until Hannah Abbott caught her by the wrists and hauled her up as though it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

"Hey," she said, pulling her wrists free from Abbott and dusting her butt off without any self-consciousness.

Abbott turned away and, a few moments later, the fruit painting behind them swung open. A little strange; Draco hadn't heard a password.

"Say goodbye," said Abbott. Her voice was the closest to dry that Draco had ever heard on a Hufflepuff.

Bones smiled at her friend but turned to Draco to say, "Goodbye."

"Actually," Draco drawled. "I need you to come with me."

Bones and Abbott glanced at each other. Abbott looked apprehensive, Bones looked intrigued. "Us?" she asked.

"Sweet Merlin, no. One Hufflepuff is bad enough. I doubt that I could stomach two." Draco narrowed his eyes at Bones, and added, "_You_."

That made Abbott frown. "Bones," she said, tone bordering on a question.

Draco had had people warn girls off him before, so he knew how this went. He leant against the corridor wall and fixed Abbott with his coldest stare. "Really, the other one's still there. It's almost as though she wants me to break out in hives," he said conversationally to Bones.

She laughed, as he had expected but Abbott turned on her heel and stormed into the Hufflepuff Common Room. Also expected. Draco fixed Bones with his brightest smile. "Follow me," he said sweetly.

Laughing again, Bones shook her head. "Hannah thought you were being serious," she said, taking a step backward, towards the Common Room door.

"And you know I wasn't," Draco lied. He smiled again. He wasn't used to using kindness to mask cruelty, but he'd seen Zabini do it often enough that it came easily now. "If you don't come with me," he said smoothly. "I will tell all of your friends about that disgusting little crush you have on Dumbledore."

She looked confused for a moment before understanding warmed her eyes. "Oh, I was hoping to keep that a secret," she said. From the way the corners of her mouth threatened to curl into a smile, Draco could tell that his ploy had worked. She thought they were sharing an inside joke, pulling out the failed blackmail ploy of last time, and it would make her bend to him. "Just," she said, eyes darkening a touch. "Let me make sure Hannah's okay." Her mouth curled again, softly. "Wait five minutes, I'll come back."

That was unacceptable; Draco scowled before he could help it. "You expect _me_ to wait for a Hufflepuff? Where people might see me?"

Rather than having the desired effect of forcing her compliance, the comment made her laugh. "If you head back to the main hall, it won't look like you're waiting for anyone," she offered easily.

"If you come with me," said Draco, countering her offer. "I won't have to wait for anyone."

She snorted as though he was joking; which he most fervently was not, and spun on her heel, striding into the Hufflepuff Common Room without a backward glance.


	17. Chapter 17

He did go back to the end of the corridor to wait for her. Not so far as the main hall though, because there would be more people there and being seen with Bones in front of them would be just as bad as being seen hovering in front of the Hufflepuff Common Room.

It took no longer than five minutes for Bones to join him. Her hair was still untidy, escaping its braid in a way that might have looked provocative on the Patil twins but only made her look a little like Professor Trelawney. Draco thought that if she was going to abandon him for another Hufflepuff then the least she could do was attempt to tidy herself up.

"What is it?" she asked as she approached him. She didn't look particularly interested as most people did when he singled them out. In fact, she looked distracted.

"Come to the boat house with me," said Draco.

She frowned at him. "Why?"

Draco wondered whether she practiced crushing the souls of those unfortunate enough to ask her out or if it came naturally. Either way it sort of explained why she was single. "Do you need a reason?" he asked a little incredulously. "It's not as though you'd have anything better to be doing, surely?"

She hesitated, tilting her head to the side. After a moment of wondering what she was up to, Draco heard the voices that she must have been listening to. They had a slightly echoing quality in the narrow corridor, but he thought that they were getting louder.

Before he could panic at the terrible notion of being caught in a secret tryst with a messy Susan Bones, she stepped backwards, melting into the darkness of another, smaller corridor that Draco had never noticed before. With a breath of relief, he followed her.

"I don't want you to tease Hannah," Bones said quietly as they walked down the darkened corridor.

"She can't take a joke?"

Bones met his gaze, her eyes shadowy and glinting lowly in the dimness. "Not when it's coming from you," she said.

She had never judged him based on anything but his actions or words, so the condemnation in her tone stung. Scowling, Draco snapped, "Do you mean from a Slytherin or from a Malfoy?"

He didn't expect Bones to snap back at him, but she turned, eyes flashing sharply. "From someone who doesn't know her well enough to tease her like that," she said, voice just as sharp. "Now what do you want?"

He was not used to people demanding explanations for why he wanted to be around them. Usually they were too delighted to think to question their good luck. He was quick at thinking of excuses though, so he tucked his hands into his pockets and said, "Were you serious?"

The question made her mouth twist in confusion.

"With this thing you were doing with Potter. The DA. Or were you just having fun?"

That just made her look more confused, like he'd trapped her and was asking her questions to which she did not know the answers. "I'm…" she said finally. "I…Ernie Macmillan was going. And Hannah. It seemed like a good idea."

It was too dark to tell if she was blushing, but Draco didn't believe her. He tilted his head back and frowned down at her. "I know spells," he said flatly. "Possibly different ones to what you learnt. Would you be interested in swapping?"

She drew back, hitting the corridor wall. Her eyes narrowed a little, but her mouth curled at the corner and Draco thought that she was at least mildly interested. He waited. "I'm not…very good at learning new things," she said finally, tone cautious.

"You're a Hufflepuff; I had noticed," agreed Draco and waited once more.

She chewed her lower lip. Draco wondered whether he'd overestimated her previously, and she did hold being a Slytherin against him. "Just for fun," she said finally. It was evident that she was trying to keep her tone neutral, but she wasn't having much success. She sounded excited.

"Fun?"

"Not serious," clarified Bones. She paused for a moment before sighing finally. "I'm not much better with DADA than I am with Potions," she said, voice lowered as though the situation bothered her. "My aunt Amelia says that my skill level should be higher. Most of my family is exceptional when it comes to defensive spells. If you're going to get impatient because I can't pick up on things quickly, then I'd rather not bother."

Slytherins would not admit to weaknesses like that under a pain of death, but Draco supposed Hufflepuffs were different. It was a relief anyway; to know that her family's magical acumen didn't extend to her. He didn't tell her that he wouldn't get impatient; he knew that he would. Instead, he said, "where would you like to practice?"

"The Forbidden Forest," said Bones. It should have occurred to Draco straight away that she responded too swiftly and too decisively; as though she had considered such a situation before. He was too busy congratulating himself on having conquered her to pay any heed to it.

"Are you mental?" he asked. "You want to practice in a place that we will almost certainly get killed and…and _die?_"

"I don't think we'll get killed and die," said Bones pensively. "It just seems like the kind of place that no one would stumble across us, you know, doing forbidden magic."

Draco didn't much worry about the forbidden magic stuff, but he did consider that it was one of the very few places he and Bones wouldn't be seen by other students. He had learnt many more curses, counter-curses and spells since first year, but the forest still terrified him. "Perhaps," he said reluctantly. "We can find a place just inside the forest, so we can get out quickly if necessary."

"I know a place," said Bones unexpectedly.

The darkness was becoming impossible so Draco lit his wand, tucked it into the crook of his arm and frowned suspiciously at her.

She blushed and scowled a little before tilting her chin up. "Theoretically," she said, her tone defensive. "I mean, Harry's been in the forest loads of times and he mentioned…" She broke off, looking furious with herself. "I'm not Gryffindor," she said flatly. "I was never brave enough to actually…"

When she didn't finish, Draco asked sweetly, "Go look?"

That made her laugh and Draco could feel her mood lighten. "Sorry," she said. "I'm not usually this cross."

"No, you're not," he agreed, and he hated to admit it, but his stomach was unknotting now that she was happy.

She smiled at him again, and Draco didn't think that anyone had ever smiled just for him before. There were no strings to her smiles; he didn't feel the weight of his father's influence in them or the worry that he would crush her if she didn't indulge him. "Hannah was really displeased about you taunting her," she said. "I get really displeased when she gets displeased. Except for the time when I played that joke on her, because that was hilarious."

Draco tried to ignore the fact that she'd just told him precisely how to hurt her. It was information that he didn't want suddenly. Instead he reached out with the arm not holding his wand to smooth down the hair that was pulling free from her plait.

She backed out of his touch before he connected. "I'm really not available," she said. More wistful than cold.

He closed his hand and pushed it back into his pocket. "Who are you unavailable with?" he asked.

Her smile flickered. "Ernie," she said. And then, in case he hadn't been paying attention during rollcall for five years, added, "Macmillan."

She must have been able to feel her face burning; the blush was clear enough to Draco. "You're a terrible liar, Bones," he said, though somehow it didn't matter anymore that she was lying. If she was so bad at it, it meant the smiles were real; and Draco thought that the trade-off worked in his favour.

She flinched, before recovering quickly. "Well," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm sure you're a good liar. Maybe you can teach me."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I can try," he drawled, letting his tone suggest that he doubted his success in such a venture.

The sarcasm made her lips curve into a smile so sweet it could only be perfected by a Hufflepuff. "This corridor leads to the hall near the dungeons," she said, drawing back along the way they'd come but not turning her back on him. "I'll see you later."

For once he didn't mind that she faded back into the shadows without waiting to be dismissed, and usually he couldn't stand people leaving him. The corridor did lead to a hall near the entrance of the dungeons; and there weren't even monstrous creatures to evade as he'd half expected.

"Why are you smiling?" Pansy asked when he finally reached the Slytherin Common Room.

Draco was jolted unpleasantly from his reverie to find Crabbe, Goyle and Nott eyeing him in a manner that seemed a little scared. "Uhm…" he said. "I'm plotting…evil plots?" When Pansy stared at him in open-mouthed disbelief, Draco cleared his throat, "And adjourning to my room," he said, waving a dismissive hand as he headed for the stairs. "Carry on."


	18. Chapter 18

When the war had ended Hermione, Harry and the twins had forcibly sat Bones down and had told her that weekends were a time for rest; and that if she insisted on working through them measures would be taken. If it hadn't been for the formidable glint in Hermione's eye, Bones might have protested more vehemently.

As it was, she gave in with good grace and assured her friends that she would relax on weekends.

"Chasing criminals is only for weekdays?" asked Fred after three hours of increasingly violent demands that Bones cease and desist with all the working. His suspicions were evidently roused by how easily she had given in.

She sighed and nodded. "Chasing criminals is a weekday pastime," she said. "Weekends are for relaxing. Boring, boring relaxing."

George studied her closely before finally nodding, a smile breaking out across his face. Fred's stern features eased too; and he looked incredibly relieved that he didn't need to play the authoritarian any longer. Neither twin suited the role. Hermione watched the twins until they smiled and then she laughed in relief. She knew Bones, but couldn't read her like the twins could.

"Good," she said. "Now that's settled, let's do lunch."

George leant forward and hugged Bones; brief and hard enough to hurt. "It will get better," he murmured. At the time he'd thought it was the truth; and so had she. With the war only just over most people were still tense.

As George pulled away to follow Fred and Hermione out of Hottie's lounge area Harry tilted his head at Bones. "The war's not really over for me either," he said. He'd never had the kind of tone that gentled so the statement came out curt and a little irritable.

Bones stretched and turned to look at him. He was leaning against the tea and coffee bench, arms folded in front of him. He'd lost the aura of willing concern somewhere along the way and now just looked hard. She thought that he'd taught himself to look that way so that people would stop pitying him. Still, he was probably the most beautiful man Bones had ever seen. "What was it like to grow up without parents?" she asked.

She knew it was still a subject that he didn't like to be surprised with so his sudden ferocious scowl wasn't unexpected. "I don't need sympathy," he said flatly.

She smiled. She didn't know why it was so thoroughly calming to have wizards so much more powerful than herself furious with her. "I'm not sympathetic, Harry," she said. "I'm jealous."

For a moment Harry watched her. Eventually he shook his head. "You should be glad you still have parents."

That made Bones laugh. "You should be glad you don't," she countered.

He hadn't killed her for that. Hadn't even hexed her, which Bones had thought was impressive. Now, almost ten months later, Bones was still keeping her promise about weekends. Chasing Death Eaters was for weekdays; on weekends she filed paper-work and finished reports and worked through budgets and accounts.

She was almost grateful that there had been that intervention. Weekdays tended to go more smoothly with the paperwork out of the way, and if she didn't think about her cases for a full weekend she usually came back to them refreshed.

This weekend didn't work so well. She got everything she needed done, but the situation with Malfoy was an unpleasant distraction throughout.

The snow had let up when she arrived at Hottie Monday morning. Fleur Delacour looked up from the receptionist desk, her mouth curving.

She had a scar running the length of her cheek-bone now, cutting through the right side of her upper lip and when she and Bill stood side by side they looked as though they matched. The ring finger of her left hand was missing too, but she did well enough without it. "The twins will be late," Fleur said as Bones stopped by the reception desk.

"That's hardly news," commented Bones.

Dimpling once more, Fleur shrugged her narrow shoulders. "Fait mon devoir," she murmured.

Bones didn't speak French. Previously she had assumed that Delacour had been swearing at her whenever she switched to French in a conversation. She'd soon learnt that Fleur was perfectly capable of cursing furiously in English though, and thus had abandoned the theory.

"Are you taking reception today?" Bones asked, reaching for the files in her inbox. They tended to work rosters on reception because no one really liked it; but Fleur disliked it more than most so it was surprising that she was there.

"Eh bien, non," she said. Smiling her Veela smile that pulled at something in even Bones' chemistry this close, she fanned herself with her own sheaf of papers. "I feel that receptionists ought to be...hn...beautiful."

Flicking through the notes in her file, Bones smiled. "George then," she said. "He's the good-looking twin."

"Damn straight."

The girls turned to see the twins walking through the front door, George beaming happily.

"Slander," said Fred. "Lies and slander against my stalwart reputation!"

Fleur laughed. It reminded Bones of singing crystal. "The pretty twin must be on reception," she said. "Appearances must be maintained and if we cannot so much as procure a pretty receptionist, people will talk."

Both twins made identical faces of distaste. "Viktor Krum!" exclaimed Fred suddenly.

"Yes?"

Bones looked past the twins. Viktor was leaning in the doorway looking dour, as he often did before he managed to find his first coffee of the day.

"You have to take reception," said George gravely. "Bones says that people are talking because we are not keeping up appearances."

Eyes narrowing, Krum slanted a questioning look at Bones. She shrugged. "Fleur wants a beautiful receptionist. You were selected on such criteria as that."

Viktor grunted irritably and strode past the group, heading for the staff kitchen. He'd take reception for the day and the twins would flirt with him shamelessly and by lunch-time he would have forgiven her for sacrificing him to such a boring task yet again.

"I need the Pressfort files and the Grosvenor files," said Bones, turning to Fred.

"Do I look like your assistant?" he asked.

"Not particularly, but you'll have to do. By lunch, please." She was about to head for her office when Draco Malfoy walked in.

The twins both moved closer to Bones, shoulders tensing. They knew her well enough not to speak for her, but she could tell they were ready to back her up at a moment's notice. She couldn't imagine what they thought she would need protection from.

"Not now," she said to Malfoy. "I don't have the time and I don't have the temperament."

He smiled and held up a stack of files in one hand. "Make the time. I can deal with your foul temper," he said easily. "Shacklebolt sent me."

Biting into her lower lip, Bones frowned. Shacklebolt had not been particularly accommodating of Hottie since she had pulled an operation that had been closing in on the pack of werewolves that had run with Greyback. "I'm not apologising if that's what he's angling for," she said.

"Not really sure why he'd be angling for an apology," said Draco. "But I'd never ask you for one."

"My office," said Bones flatly, turning away from him as she spoke. She didn't really want to deal with politics that day, but as the head of Hottie it wasn't always optional.

She didn't wait for Draco to close the door of her office behind himself before spinning on him and saying, "Speak."

Draco tossed the files onto her desk and ran the tip of his tongue across his upper lip. He didn't look nervous but, for a moment, Bones had the strongest feeling that he was. Then she remembered that her feelings could not be trusted and bit the inside of her cheek to steady herself.

"We need results in the next few days," Draco said, settling himself into one of the armchairs opposite Bones' desk. He didn't ask permission, which Bones approved of. She found such things unnecessary and time-consuming. "It's the first anniversary of the fall of You-Know-Who, it's the forefront of the wizarding world's thoughts and they will want concrete evidence that we are locating the remaining Death Eaters."

Smiling grimly, Bones leant back against her desk. "And the fact that elections are right around the corner and catching some high profile Death Eaters would look really good for Scrimgeour has nothing to do with it?"

Shooting her a look of exasperated amusement, Draco shrugged. "Be that as it may, Shacklebolt knows that Hottie is more likely to deliver results than the Ministry Aurors. I'll be working with you and if you need any resources, I'll secure it with Shacklebolt."

"We don't use go-betweens," said Bones. "If I need resources, I'll go to Shacklebolt myself."

Draco gave a short bark of laughter. "Hufflepuff," he said in a tone that almost sounded affectionate. "Why do you think he sent me?"

Setting her jaw, Bones scowled at him. She knew that it wasn't the worst idea in the world. By reputation Draco Malfoy was far better at negotiation and diplomacy than she was. Had he offered to mediate without having been sent by Shacklebolt, Bones might have even been appreciative. "I might have insinuated that his mother could have done the world a favour by opting for abortion," she said finally.

Draco stared at her. "Merlin, Bones. His mother would not admit him to her room when she was on her deathbed, did you know that?"

"Yes." Bones tilted her head back, stretching her neck. The last thing Shacklebolt's mother had ever said to him was that she wished he had never been born. Sometimes, Shacklebolt had told Bones, he wished that he had never gone against Voldemort. Bones had used everything he had ever told her to cause him as much lasting damage as she was able. It wasn't as though it was the worst thing she had ever done.

"You would never have done that at Hogwarts," said Draco, still looking shocked by her admission. "You would have died before causing anyone that kind of pain, let alone someone who was on your side."

Bones wondered why he sounded as though someone was tearing his soul to pieces. Surely someone who had killed their own father would have no soul left to tear. "Are you the same person you were at Hogwarts?" she asked.

"I'm kinder," said Draco, though his voice was infinitely sad.

Bones hated the small part of herself that analysed his tone, searching for something that she could hurt him with later if she needed to. She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek and told herself that she was strong enough to stop herself from hurting the people around her. Some days it was true; most it was not. "I'm not," she said.

The corner of Draco's mouth tugged upward. "Let me negotiate for you," he said gently. "I won't get in your way. I'm not expecting continuous reports on your progress. I've kept up with Hottie's activities since you guys went public; I know that you're good at what you do."

Walking around to the other side of her desk, Bones sat in her chair and studied Draco, frowning. "You're on our side?" She wasn't asking whether he went against Voldemort; she knew he did. She was asking whether he would chose Hottie over Shacklebolt.

Draco smiled and his words, when they came, were a little too much like a promise. "Of course. Always."

Always was a long time, and Bones didn't really believe in it. "There are some files I need from the Unspeakable archives," she said, reaching for a quill. "Shacklebolt will have the clearance for them. Talk him into it and I will consider you my new go-between."

Draco merely laughed. "Compared to this, it will be easy," he said.


	19. Chapter 19

Bones pushed her hands into the pockets of her robes. She had given Draco the lists of files she needed and resources that might help in a bigger scale operation and they were standing in the front foyer sorting out the best time to reconvene. She wondered whether his hair was as soft as it looked, and thought that it probably wasn't. She wondered why she was wondering such things.

She had never wanted to know what someone's hair would feel like under her fingertips. Oh, perhaps when she had been at Hogwarts. She'd had the craziest crush on Terry Boot once; so, so long ago. She had wondered a lot about him. What the back of his hand would feel like if he brushed it against her cheek, what his breath would feel like if he leant in to whisper in her ear.

There was no reason to wonder such things about Draco Malfoy so Bones kept her hands clenched firmly in her pockets and nodded when he suggested a day, but didn't bother to listen to the day he'd suggested.

"Draco Malfoy?"

Bones recognised her sister's shocked voice before she turned to find her walking into the foyer. She was about to assure Helen that everything was alright and that fiery torches and pitchforks would be unnecessary when Helen stepped past her and threw her arms around Malfoy.

"Uh…" said Draco, looking as though he desperately wanted to wriggle free but was not sure that such a move would be sound.

Bones was equally astonished.

"You're back?" The question was strangely fierce; almost a threat.

Frowning down at her, Draco plucked himself free finally. "Ah," he said slowly, gaze going from Bones and then back to the girl in front of him. "You would be Helen then?" he asked, though Helen and Bones looked nothing alike. Helen was much prettier than Bones; her features finer and eyes larger.

Helen nodded emphatically before shooting a stunning grin across at Bones. "You were right, Zee," she said. "He is gorgeous."

If Helen were one of the twins, Bones would have laughed. Her little sister was not given to practical jokes though, so Bones choked on the question she had been about to ask. "What are you…I…What..?" she spluttered. Then it occurred to her that Draco Malfoy knew her little sister by name; though evidently not by sight. She frowned at him. He had flushed a light pink when Helen had grabbed him, but his skin was blanching now, leaving him pale and worried looking.

"Are you..?" Helen looked to Bones, frowning suddenly. Bones waited for the rest of the question. Exasperated, Helen sighed. "And him," she said. "Are you and him? Are you?"

"Are we human?" asked Bones dryly. "Are we against You-Know-Who? Are we confused?"

"Are you together?" Helen cried, stamping her foot as though she thought that Bones was being utterly impossible.

"Are you mental?" asked Bones flatly. Even as she asked, she was aware that Draco understood what was going on better than she did. If his pallor was anything to go by, he didn't like this turn of events at all.

Brow furrowing, Helen's expression changed to one of puzzlement. "What then?" she asked.

"We're consulting," said Draco rather firmly. Bones had seen him in negotiations before and knew how easily he could shift conversations to suit him. He was shifting this one even as Bones tried to decide what question to ask to find out what was happening. "Do you come here often?" he asked too smoothly.

Mouth twisting wryly, Helen nodded. "Zee never comes home anymore," she said.

Bones decided on a question. "Why did you _hug_ Draco Malfoy?"

Helen glared at her with all of the wounded pride that a fourteen year old could muster. "Not the time to be changing the subject," she said flatly. "It was your birthday over a week ago and you didn't come home. You still haven't been home. We made cake!"

Bones sighed. They'd had this fight too many times for her to want to rehash it now. "Time and place, Helen. This is not it."

"Well, you're taking me to lunch," said Helen. "It won't be as good as the birthday dinner we slaved over, but it will be something." She glanced sideways at Draco. "Bring Draco too," she offered carefully.

The day was getting stranger and stranger. "In what world could I possibly want to have a belated birthday lunch with Draco Malfoy?" asked Bones.

Helen stared at her before her eyebrows drew together and she took a breath.

"You did spend your birthday with me," Draco reminded Bones casually; and she had the horrible feeling that he was leading the conversation away from something that he didn't want exposed yet again.

"I was drunk," she said tightly. "It doesn't count."

He merely shot her a good-humoured smile before glancing down at his watch. "I have things to be doing anyway," he said as Helen stared at Bones, mouthing the words 'drunk, birthday, Malfoy?'

Bones wished that she wasn't quite so good at reading lips. It came in handy for missions, but she would really rather not have this silent conversation with her impressionable baby sister. There were going to be questions later. A lot of them, unless there was a way to circumvent it. Eyes brightening, Bones cleared her throat. "Well," she said to Draco, far too enthusiastically. "You can't have anything on that's more important than my belated birthday lunch?"


	20. Chapter 20

Going to lunch with Bones and her sister was not something that Draco wanted to do. There was far too much that could go wrong, and he realised now that he ought to have planned for this contingency.

Bones, however, had been resolute and so he was standing outside Hottie with Helen while they waited for her to sort something out with Granger.

"Is she the same with you as she is with us?" asked Helen as Draco tried to think of how to circumvent any of the problems this lunch might create. He tilted his head to frown at her. "She never…" said Helen before creasing her nose and looking away. "She doesn't care about us anymore. Does she still care about you?"

Bones had taken Helen to meet Draco once before, when she'd been seven. Back then she had been utterly secure in her older sister's love; had accepted it without question as though it was her right and not a privilege. It had made Draco jealous.

He smiled a little bitterly. "I'm not the one who left her, if that's what you're asking," he said.

Helen shoved her hands deep into her pockets to ward against the cold and turned back to look at him. "Wars change people," she said bleakly. "Every year it's like we lose a little more of her. When I come here, Hermione and the twins are happier to see me than she is." She laughed, short and harsh. "The portrait above her desk is happier to see me."

"How long has she been like this?"

Wrinkling her nose again, Helen shrugged. "Since we found out for sure that You-Know-Who was back. She started going this way a few months after that."

Draco nodded. "Do me a favour," he said. Perhaps he didn't know Helen well enough to ask this of her but a direct approach had always worked with Bones and he was hoping her sister would be the same. "Let's pretend for the time being that your sister and I don't have a past."

Helen's eyes narrowed.

Draco smiled at her. "Trust me on this."

"You have a plan," she said.

"Always," promised Draco, and she smiled a more blazingly beautiful smile than Bones had or would ever have.

A few minutes later, Bones joined them, her breath fogging the cool air. "You two keeping out of trouble?" she asked. Her attention was not focussed on Helen as it had been the last time Draco had met her. Now she didn't seem interested in what her little sister might have to say.

"Barely," said Helen, dusting snow-flakes from the shoulders of her jacket.

Bones' gaze didn't leave Draco. She nodded finally; a sharp little nod as though she'd reached some indefinable conclusion. Draco didn't think it had anything to do with Helen's reply. He pulled his shoulders back, letting the corner of his mouth tug up; barely perceptible. It occurred to him a moment too late that Bones didn't remember him enough to remember that that gesture meant a question.

They Apparated to a restaurant of Helen's choosing, and she went to ask for a table. Bones turned to Draco, eyes narrowing.

She wasn't happy about something, and Draco suspected that she'd noticed him manipulating the conversation away from their past back at Hottie. He leant back against the street-lamp, tucking his hands casually into his pockets and smiling at her. His stance was open; elbows out and making eye-contact easily. Usually it made people less suspicious of him.

Bones' mouth twisted in a way that meant her suspicions were not assuaged. "You are gorgeous," she said finally, as though it was an accusation. "But I never told Helen that."

It was not what he'd expected her to say, but his years of being a spy had made him react much more quickly to surprises. He smirked. "Oh, I don't blame you," he drawled, resting a hand against the flat of his stomach and making sure his voice rolled out slow and confident. "If I'd been you, I'd have been telling my sister all about me as well."

That made her laugh; the same laugh she'd had at Hogwarts, all amusement with no bitterness clinging to the edges. Afterwards she looked quite surprised at herself. But she narrowed her eyes at Draco again; there wasn't any suspicion in them now. "You, Malfoy," she said. "Are keeping secrets."

"Yes." Draco dropped the word into the blossoming silence like a dare. "I'm mysterious like that."

It made her laugh again and Draco had to press himself back almost painfully into the ice-cold of the lamp-post to keep from reaching out to touch her.

Then Helen was back, giving Bones an odd look and telling them that their table was ready. Draco was grateful for the distraction.

Helen carried the conversation for the first half of the lunch. Draco watched Bones. Had she been alive, his mother would have been appalled that he left Helen to battle the ever-impinging awkward silence on her own. With Bones so near, he could do nothing else. Though Helen fared quite well on her own, perhaps she was used to it.

"How long have you guys been working together anyway?" she asked finally.

Bones poked at a bit of mushroom with her fork. "Since this morning." Her brow furrowed and she lifted her head to glance at Draco. "Which begs the question really; when we had lunch last week did you know you'd be working with Hottie?"

Draco hadn't known. He was indebted to Theodore Nott for the favours he'd pulled to get the position. Draco did have his own networks of contacts; but Kingsley Shacklebolt was not amongst them. There was no reason to make Bones even more suspicious about his intentions though, so he grinned at her.

"Of course you knew," she said, smiling. She relaxed too, and Draco knew that it was because the situation made sense to her once again. He was meticulous by reputation; she would expect him to look into the head of any organisation that he was planning on dealing with.

Helen pulled a watch out of her pocket and frowned at it. "I'd better go," she said, pushing her half-empty plate to the side. "I'm meant to be getting my textbooks."

Bones waved her away without evident interest, but once she had left, frowned to herself. "Curiouser and curiouser," she commented.

"Perhaps she was tired of being the one to carry the whole of the conversation," offered Draco, feigning disinterest. If Bones was suspicious about Helen's departure, he didn't think a comment from him would lessen those suspicions but it didn't hurt to try.

She didn't seem to consider Helen's behaviour to be linked to him. She actually didn't seem to notice that he was still there. Draco didn't mind. He leant back in his seat. "Would you like me to go now that Helen is unlikely to ask you embarrassing questions about your birthday night?"

That made her lips curve into a soft, warm grin. "Are you planning on letting me get away with anything, Malfoy?"

The banter was so like how she had spoken at Hogwarts that Draco smiled, feeling himself relax for the first time since this lunch had begun. "Would you forgive me if I did?"

Her eyes swept across his face; confusion darkening them briefly. She pulled herself together almost at once. "If you let me get away with things it would either mean that you were stupid or that you thought me so."

"Intolerable," agreed Draco and she laughed, probably because she found stupid people perfectly tolerable.

He kept her interest during the remainder of lunch, and by the time they left her cheeks were glowing softly. He knew better than to help her on with her coat in the front foyer, but she took the arm her offered without seeming surprised.

Neither of them were the type to fill silences just because they existed so, for a time, they walked without speaking.

"Well," said Draco once they were outside Hottie. "I won't see you for at least another few days."

Bones glanced at the building as though surprised to find herself there. "You're meant to be getting files for me," she pointed out letting his arm go and stepping away to turn back and look at him.

He smirked. "You don't expect me to bring them all the way here? Bones, that's what owls are for."

Biting lightly into the fingertip of her glove, Bones pulled it off and tucked it into her pocket. Then she reached out and dusted the pad of her thumb across Draco's eyelashes; fingers so gentle that he didn't flinch.

"Snowflake," she said watching it melt against the warmth of her skin.

Draco reached up to stroke her cheek; his glove was probably rough against her but she leant into it, eyes flickering closed. "If you want to touch me Hufflepuff," he said voice smoky because he'd never been able to control it around her even if he could around everyone else. "You don't need to wait for the snow."

Her eyes snapped open; meeting his in a moment of blindingly brilliant intensity. Then, with a half-turn and a crack, she had Disapparated away.

Draco took a step back, carding a hand through his hair and looking towards the Hottie building. No way of telling whether she'd Apparated there or somewhere else. He pulled his hand back and tucked it into his pocket, smiling wryly. At Hogwarts he'd been the one afraid of touch.


	21. Chapter 21

For a long time he had avoided her when she moved too near. There were times when touch was acceptable; she never waited for those times when she touched him. He'd thought her infatuated and had wanted as much distance from it, and her, as possible. He didn't admit, even to himself, that being touched made him anxious.

It wasn't until she stopped talking to him the first time that he noticed the way she touched everybody. The contact was so blatantly unselfconscious on her part that Draco wondered how he could have ever failed to see it before; how he had ever thought that it was something she did only for him.

But all of that was after the fact. The contact had started the night he had met Bones at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He was late, lest she get the impression that she warranted respect. Her eyes were still glowing with anticipation when he arrived. Hufflepuffs, he thought, were so incredibly easy to excite.

"Do you know how to get where we're going?" He had long since learnt that when he was scared it was best to drawl. Drawing the words out and injecting them with boredom steadied his voice.

He doubted she would have noticed if he was shaking with the way she was bouncing on her toes like an over-eager puppy. "I think so. I asked questions, subtly."

He smirked then, but feared that the effect was marred by the encroaching darkness. She'd have all the subtlety of a dragon in a potions store; but Potter was incredibly dense so he probably hadn't noticed anything amiss with the questioning.

Then she caught his arm, eyes light and very clear even in the low glow of their wands. "Come on."

It wasn't precisely a breach of etiquette for her to have his arm as they walked, but she should have waited until he had offered it. She certainly shouldn't have taken his left arm either, not when she was pure-blooded. Then her fingers twined with his and Draco pulled back sharply. It only pulled her along with him.

"What?" She automatically turned towards the Forbidden Forest to see what had frightened him.

Draco sighed. He knew that the customs had died in many of the wizarding families. Even Pansy Parkinson claimed ignorance of the most basic rules of good manners. She, however, was well aware that if she ever tried to hold his hand he would hex her. He shook his hand to free it and after a confused moment, Bones let him go.

"I think," she said, voice faltering. Draco wondered whether she'd finally realised what an abysmally stupid idea it was to have secretly met a Slytherin out in the darkness where no one could help her. "That the path we need to go through in the forest will be safe enough." She paused before nodding decisively. "Alright, if you don't need to hold anyone's hand, neither do I." And, with a laughing look back at him before she turned to head for the forest, she called, "I'm just as brave as the next person who's not in Gryffindor."

Draco hadn't considered that she might have been taking his hand as a safety precaution. Looking into the forest, he thought she was right. It was so dark in there that if something startled them enough to disrupt their Lumos charms they'd have trouble finding one another. If he was the one that knew the way it wouldn't have bothered him. Since she knew the way, he lengthened his stride to catch up with her. "Here." She glanced up at him, startled. "Take my arm," said Draco flatly, holding his right elbow out for her. "The hand is not appropriate."

She grinned in raw amusement, but obeyed, hooking his elbow with hers in a manner that was just too familiar. It was still better than having her warm fingers curled into his. She seemed to forget the contact the moment it was established, walking steadily into the forest. She wasn't smiling but Draco could feel the excitement streaming off her like it was tangible and her face glowed in the wand-light.

"How far is it?" he asked, keeping his voice flat to disguise the fear. She'd know if he flinched so he made sure to control his movements.

"Uh." The look that crossed her features was one of uncertainty so Draco gave up on that line of questioning.

He needn't have worried; the clearing that Potter had told Bones about was barely a ten minute walk away.

"I guess this is it," commented Bones, turning in a half-circle to take in the size of the area, gaze lingering on the pool of water across the other side as she shrugged her cloak off. "It's lovely."

Draco was too busy setting up protective wards to bother responding. After a moment, Bones took the opposite side and began to help. They worked in silence until Draco thought that the space was safe, then he straightened and turned to Bones. She was casting glow orbs; making the grove light up.

"Alright," he said, tossing his own cloak onto a nearby boulder. It would only hinder them if they were casting. "What do you want to learn?"

She turned back to him, tapping her wand against her arm pensively. The orb behind her played high-lights into her hair. Draco hated that he noticed it. "What do you have?" she asked, and her voice was different somehow. If her face hadn't been in shadow, Draco thought that he might have been able to decipher it.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Curses, counter-curses, jinxes, charms, hexes. What do you want?"

She was still in shadow, but he could see the glint of her teeth when she grinned. "Charms," she said. "Would be the usual Hufflepuff response, but it would be very dull for you I'm sure. Teach me curses."

When Draco's brows rose in surprise, she laughed lightly. "The worst ones you know," she said as though this was a game they were playing.

The worst curses Draco knew were not legal. He wondered for a moment how Bones would react to him teaching her those. He shook his head finally. "How about one of the nicer curses? I don't know how your Hufflepuff sensibilities will fare if confronted with the worst ones first."

It made her laugh, as Draco had half been expecting. He thought suddenly that her sensibilities would fare very well if confronted with the worst curses he knew; and then was surprised at himself for thinking something like that about a Hufflepuff who hadn't even shown enough spine to defend herself against him. Though, if he was to be fair, she had never yet thought that she needed to protect herself against him.

Twirling her wand, she stepped back into the light. "If you can take it, I can," she said. Her smile was easy and confident and for a moment Draco hated her for it. She had lost so many family members to the war and she still had no idea how destructive magic could be. Draco wished that he could be as naive.

He smiled in a manner not meant to be pleasant and stepped towards her. Had she been any other witch, he would have been impressed that she did not step back. It was Bones though; she probably wouldn't step back if a werewolf came towards her. Trust, not bravery. She believed in humans. "Alright," he said, and he meant his voice to be hard and cold like steel; instead it came out rough and low, like a purr. It shocked him because, although everything else might slip out of his control, his voice didn't. He tried it again. "The very worst curses I know."

She nodded, eyes unnaturally bright in the orb-light and she didn't seem to notice that he was still purring, which was one thing to be grateful for.

"Fiendfyre," he said, because he wasn't stupid enough to let her know that he knew the Unforgivables.

She nodded at once, not looking shocked. She probably didn't know that particular curse. Then she raised her head, caught Draco's gaze and said, "I trust you know the containment spells. The Forbidden Forest cannot be put in danger." Her voice was colder, making it clear that she knew exactly what Fiendfyre was. Her aunt must have taught her about it.

Draco nodded to her stiffly, not wanting to dwell on the fact that he grudgingly approved of her decision not to back down once she knew the risks. He admired her priorities more. When he had first been taught to wield Fiendfyre, he had worried about his safety more than the safety of anything around him.

"Alright then." She bounced on her toes a little, the excitement evidently back as she waited for him to begin.

He obliged her; teaching her how to build and layer the containment spells to protect the forest. They would be inside the barrier when casting the curse, so it wouldn't save them should anything go wrong.

Not that there was much chance of anything going wrong. The curse needed to be cast properly and it was sheer idiocy to attempt it with only a theoretical understanding of it; but like all spells, it would bend to the will of its wielder so long as they maintained control.

When the containment spells were done, Draco moved on to the Fiendfyre curse.

He fervently did not want to touch her and was grateful that she seemed to be able to manage posture and wand-movement without correction. Articulation and raw power was where she failed; and touching her would do nothing to help her on either of those counts.

Despite the fact that she'd warned him she wasn't good with this kind of magic, Draco ended up taunting her and yelling at her and getting frustrated with her for not being able to get it easily.

She didn't take it badly; smiling wryly and concentrating harder. It annoyed Draco more, if she'd gotten angry or even started crying he'd feel justified in his behaviour. This just made him feel bad.

"I know you said you weren't good at this," he finally snapped, glaring at her. "But you didn't tell me that you were practically a Squib!"

Surprisingly, she laughed, throwing her head back and shaking with the force of it. Even more surprisingly the sound dragged Draco several steps closer to her before he realised what he was doing and stopped abruptly. It wasn't that she had the most beautiful laugh he had ever heard; that honour rested squarely with Fleur Delacour. Bones had the most unself-conscious though. Her laughter was like an invitation; not one with strings attached like Daphne Greengrass' but one that invited everyone to partake in her amusement. "I'll get it," she said, when she stopped laughing and caught her breath. She was confident enough to make Draco believe her; though if he picked up on spells as slowly as she evidently did he thought that he would have just given up and moved to the Muggle world.

"You may get it," he said crisply. "It will hardly help you when you're an octogenarian."

Her amusement still thrummed out around her; still reached out to him like an invitation. "How will it help me now?"

She wasn't bound to the war like he was. Wasn't pushing her magic to its very limits with the knowledge it may save or fail her someday. Draco quashed the jealousy that surged through him at that realisation and lifted his shoulders delicately enough that it could still be polite. "It's late." He didn't think that he'd kept the coldness from his voice, but most of the school thought him cold anyway so he doubted she'd read anything into it.

He was right. She nodded her head, not even looking at him, but across at the pool of water instead. "You go on," she said. "I think it will be safe. I'll head back soon."

"You can't practice with Fiendfyre on your own." He was grateful that he didn't sound as though he cared.

Shaking her head, she smiled to herself. "I'm not stupid."

"You say that," said Draco. "And yet the fact remains that you were sorted into Hufflepuff."

Her smile didn't waver, but her eyes were further away. "Really," she said. When Draco folded his arms and fixed her with a look that said he wasn't going anywhere, she moved towards the far edge of the clearing. "I thought I might go swimming."

For long moments Draco merely stared at her. "In the Forbidden Forest?" he finally spluttered. When she didn't respond aside from shrugging her shoulders slightly, he pressed on. "In the middle of the night? When it's still early spring? Without proper swim-wear?"

She laughed at that. "Live a little, Draco."

"Malfoy," he corrected her. He resented the implication that not wanting to swim in freezing cold water in the middle of a dangerous forest meant that his life was less well-lived. Catching up his cloak from the boulder he'd set it on, he dropped it onto the forest floor before setting himself down on it.

"What are you doing?" For the first time, Bones sounded anxious.

Leaning back on his hands Draco smirked at her, in his element now that she was off-balance. "Not leaving you in the forest."

Instead of looking charmed that he'd stay behind to protect her, she frowned, eyes darkening in puzzlement. It made him wonder whether she'd been planning on skinny-dipping. "You don't need to look after me." She sounded apprehensive and a little embarrassed; as though she was reading far more into his actions than existed.

Draco didn't want to give her the impression that he was staying for her but there was no way on Earth that he was going to admit to staying behind so that he wouldn't have to walk through the forest alone so he smiled unpleasantly instead. "Should I leave you to get killed out here?" he asked scathingly. Before she could make the mistake of thinking he cared, he tilted his head back to sneer at her. "Not that it would be a great loss to me, but I imagine that I would have some explaining to do if it came to light that I was last seen with you."

For a long moment she was silent; and then the line of her shoulders began to shake in the last of the light from the orbs. Draco almost panicked. His mother had always told him not to make girls cry; she had never added 'because it is terrifying and will scar you for life.' That was very lax of her.

Then Bones made a sort of muffled noise and Draco realised that she was shaking with mostly silent laughter. "In that case," she said, pulling her robes over her head and tossing them aside. "By all means, protect me."

She was, without a doubt, the most infuriating girl of his acquaintance.


	22. Chapter 22

Which may have been why he couldn't stop thinking about her. He didn't think about the way the water had streamed off her as she'd finally crawled shivering out of the pond. That's what he should have been thinking about. That would have been acceptable. She'd had a tiny pair of shorts and a singlet under her robes but they'd clung to her and the light had played off the skin of her arms and legs. Those thoughts would have been perfectly suitable.

Instead he thought about her voice, the way her mouth twisted uncertainly before she pushed her wet hair out of her face. She wasn't wearing make-up but her eyes looked darker and for a moment Draco had thought her mascara had run. "What's the nature of happiness?" she asked as though her entire world centred on finding the answer.

And he hadn't had an answer. She may as well have asked what the nature of a muggle was, what the nature of the stars were. Happiness was as elusive a concept to him as either of those. He had been happy in his life, he was sure of that, but if he were to try and pinpoint an exact moment of it it eluded him.

The question, as simple as it was, gnawed at him. It undid him from the inside out, stripping layer upon layer of him away until he was left feeling raw and hollow.

He thought about her all the time. Even though she'd been the one to ask the question, he thought that she knew the answer. She looked as though she knew what happiness was. Though Draco had noticed that she spent almost every lunch and dinner watching Ernie Macmillan as though she could not bear to look away. Possibly her happiness was not quite as bright as it could have been.

"It's gotten around almost quarter of the school now," Zabini said at dinner one day. He was buttering a roll and Draco turned from studying Bones to frown at him.

"At some point, Zabini," he said. "You are going to have to begin the conversation at the beginning."

Zabini smiled, eyes as hard and watchful as ever. "Susan Bones."

Fixing him with a bored look, Draco asked, "Should I try to guess what you're getting at?"

The left corner of Zabini's mouth lifted. Almost a sneer, but not quite, because Zabini knew that Draco would be insufferable for at least a fortnight if he dared to sneer at him. "She's told people," he said delicately.

Draco wasn't worried. Bones knew better than to tell people she was learning highly questionable curses with the son of a suspected Death Eater in a forest that was off-limits. He would trust her to protect him even if she decided to throw herself to the proverbial wolves. "Do try to reach the point sometime today, Zabini," he said. "Before I finish my dinner would be preferable."

Looking irate finally, Blaise said sharply, "She's told people about you. If you do not take measures the entire school will know within the week."

"Told people…" Draco spluttered. "What..? Told people what?"

Scowling into his soup, Zabini hissed, "What do you think? You were meant to tear her to shreds once you got her to go out with her. You weren't meant to fall for your own lie."

Draco's head shot up and he stared at Zabini in disbelief. He didn't need to gather his thoughts; his voice came out harsh as a winter's frost all on its own. "What has she said? Exactly?"

It was rare for Blaise to be frightened of Draco, but it did happen. This was one of those times. He shuffled into a smaller bundle; less of a target that way. Draco realised that his own hand was on his wand. He closed his fist and placed both empty hands on the table, but did not stop glaring at his friend.

Zabini relaxed marginally anyway. "I don't have an exact quote," he said, voice not as steady as Draco's. He hadn't learnt to master it in the same way. He had more of his casual nonchalance back when he went on. With a flick of his wrist indicating the Hufflepuff table, he said, "All her friends know. You're…uh…dating."

Draco scowled, fists balled so tightly that the blood left them and his nails scoured his palms. "I will destroy her," he said and his voice was perfectly reasonable, as he had intended it to be. Even as he stood, he noticed that Zabini looked unspeakably relieved.

Discretion had never been one of Draco's strong suits, so he stalked across to her table, scowling darkly. "Hufflepuff," he snapped, stopping far enough away from her that no one would think they were too familiar. Every Hufflepuff at the table turned to frown at him. Draco hissed in annoyance but Bones stood up, a frown forming on her face. She looked like a wayward House-elf; hoping for a way out but not really expecting one. Draco was glad that she at least knew he'd be furious about her spreading rumours. "A word?" He didn't let it be a request. It was a command.

Bones' lips parted and her eyes darkened. Without a word, she walked by him, shoulder knocking his as she headed for the Great Hall doors. The impact was enough to half-turn Draco where he stood; and it was enough that Draco could tell that she was angry. He turned his head to watch her walk away; he didn't want her putting him in the position of running after her but under the circumstances his options were limited.

Straightening his spine he took a breath, letting his anger pool in his stomach. When he followed her, he didn't hurry.

She didn't let him catch up to her until she reached the Astronomy Tower.

He walked in to find her on the balcony, her hair flying in the wind and sleet outside. Scowling he pushed his fists into his pockets and hoped that she could feel his glare with her back turned. "Astronomy Tower?" he asked, letting frost and scorn coat his words as they left his mouth. "Presumptuous of you, isn't it? You know why people usually come here I expect."

"Oh, don't," she turned to glare at him. Her nose and ears were red with cold and Draco wondered whether she expected him to take her anger seriously.

"Or what?" he snarled. "You'll start telling _my_ friends that we're together?"

Bones stared at him as though he'd grown another head. "We're not together."

Draco laughed, the sound harsh and even worse when it echoed back through the room. "Believe me, I know that," he bit out. She had to know that he would always be set to choose Parkinson or one of the Greengrasses. She had to know that she didn't come close to competing let alone winning. "If I wanted people to think I was going out with you, I would go out with you. As you are inferior to me in every possible way, please keep your perverted little fantasies to yourself."

Her eyes widened and after a moment she shook her head. "Don't be more paranoid than you can help, Malfoy," she said. "I never gave _you_ the impression that I was available, why would I bother suggesting it to someone else?"

"Stop with the charade," snapped Draco. "You tell me you're not available, you flirt with Macmillan every time I'm anywhere near you. It's not making me jealous because I don't care about you. But stop, because I care about what my friends think and I don't want them thinking that about us."

She laughed, looking stunned. "You think…" Scowling, she shook her head again as though to clear her thoughts. "So," she said, more slowly. "You think that I'm…trying to make you jealous or playing hard to get or something?"

Folding his arms across his chest, he hoped that the look he gave her conveyed in full measure how pitiful her attempts at playing dumb were.

"And you're angry," she went on, voice still slow but now also speculative. "Not because you're jealous, but because you think your friends will notice me fake-flirting with Ernie and will talk about _you?_"

"They are talking about us," Draco told her with as much emphasis as he could muster.

"No one's talking about us!" Draco was pretty sure she was furious even if she was half-laughing again. "Listen to yourself, Malfoy! Cedric Diggory died less than a year ago, the papers keep saying that Harry's mental and Harry…" Her breath hitched but she went on. "Harry keeps saying that You-Know-Who is still alive. Dumbledore has disappeared and Marietta Edgecombe can't stop crying because she has that horrible word etched across her face. Draco, _no one_ is talking about _us_."

"Then how is it that Zabini thinks that we're dating?"

Her expression changed; eyes widening in shock right before the blood fled her face. "That's not possible." Her voice was guttural as though her throat had run dry and the words came out torn.

Draco didn't let his glare waver. "I take it you didn't expect me to find out?"

"Find out what?" Her voice rose sharply in thinly-veiled hysteria. "What did Blaise tell you? He can't seriously think that we'd be dating?"

She wasn't blushing, and her eye-contact was hard and steady. Draco wondered whether Zabini had gotten it wrong somehow. "He does think it," he said.

Bones half-spun away, shaking her head as though trying to clear it. "You need to fix this," she snapped finally, spinning back to point at Draco. "He's your friend; you need to make him realise that he's wrong…"

"I have." Draco's voice cut across hers, harsh but flat.

Some of the tension left her and she lowered her arm, nodding distractedly. "I'm sorry," she said finally. "It's just that that's the last thing I'd want anyone to think about me…us."

Unexpectedly, that hurt. Draco bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check and straightened his spine. "I can't see that a rumour like that would hurt _your_ reputation," he said coolly, stressing the 'your' to clarify that the rumour would destroy _his._

"Reputations aren't the most important thing in life, Malfoy."

Draco ignored that, dusting the shoulders of his robes off instead and hoping unkindly that it made her think that he felt tainted by her mere presence. "I've taken care of things at my end," he said. "Please do the same at yours."

She stared at him, mouth twisting a little in anxiety. "Draco – Malfoy, I honestly have no idea who I'd even speak to at my side. I haven't…It would just make whoever I spoke to suspect that we were up to something if I tried to convince them that we weren't and they didn't know anything about it to begin with."

He frowned, hooking his left thumb into his robe pocket. "Hufflepuff," he said very distinctly. "Go to all of the other Puffs that you've talked to about me and tell them that it was a massive misunderstanding. You can remember all of the Puffs you told about me, can't you?"

"I haven't told any of them."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Hufflepuff."

"Not one," said Bones, jaw clenching stubbornly. "Hannah asked why you came to our Common Room and I told her that you wanted to borrow my Transfig notes and that you didn't want to ask while she was around. That is the most that I have said to anyone about you since you saw me after the D.A. raid."

An uneasy feeling began to creep across Draco's skin as she spoke. He was sure that she wasn't lying; had seen her lie too many times to think that she was capable of fooling him with it again.

She must have been considering the same thing as him, because she asked, "Are you sure it's no one on your side, Malfoy?"

Of the two of them Draco had done all of the pursuing. He'd sat with her in Potions, he'd asked Zabini about her multiple times, he'd black-mailed her into going to Hogsmead with him and later shown up at her Common Room door to invite her to swap spells. Her behaviour hadn't changed, so there was nothing for her friends to notice. His behaviour, however…

Draco swore, turning agitatedly to glare towards the door as though somewhere in the castle Zabini would be able to _feel_ it. "I'm going to hex him to within an inch of his life."

Instead of looking frightened when Draco glanced back at her, Bones looked relieved.

Being a Hufflepuff, she'd taken the threat as an idle one, Draco realised. It hadn't been though. He was pretty sure that he wouldn't stop hexing Zabini until Madam Pomfrey's services were required. "You know what this is about?" Bones asked.

Draco looked down his nose at her and gave an infinitesimal shrug to tell her that he knew precisely what it was about. It wasn't exactly a lie; he was pretty sure that Zabini had disliked what he must have seen as a growing closeness between the Hufflepuff and Draco and had taken measures to discover how intimate the relationship had become. Draco was fleetingly glad that he'd been so openly furious at any suggestion that he was affected by Bones. Her name could not be linked to his; how utterly mortifying.

Her brow puckered and she shrugged her shoulders back at Draco, the gesture light and quizzical. "So? What was all of this about then?" She didn't quite sound amused and Draco realised that there was a thin layer of tension in her voice that might have been fear.

That hurt too, and Draco wondered what was wrong with him. Of course she was afraid that someone would link her to him and she would lose all of her wonderful D.A. friends. Hufflepuffs and their herd mentality; there was no reason for that to affect him. He smirked at her. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"That's why I asked," she said, face open and serious. She looked so incredibly vulnerable, as though one well-placed remark would be enough to shatter that delicate trust. Draco knew better now; any scathing comment he'd targeted at her previously had dissolved on contact.

He tried again anyway, because that was who he was. He'd never had a friend or enemy whose weaknesses had not been carefully analysed and stored in his mind. Even his father; even his mother. He let his voice slip into an iciness that few could hope to rival. "Why don't you stop playing with forbidden things and crawl back to the safety of your own House?"

He hadn't expected it to work; but he hadn't expected to feel relief when she merely quirked the corner of her mouth into a smile either. "Why don't you stop trying to change the subject? What just happened here? Who are you going to hex?"

Draco smirked at her again. If he couldn't upset her with insults, he'd settle for using her curiosity against her.

"I'll guess then," she told him, her brow creasing at his evident refusal to answer a simple question.

"Good luck with that." He turned to leave, pacing several steps towards the door before Bones spoke again.

"Are you going?"

Draco didn't break a stride. "Yes, Hufflepuff. We have said all that needs to be said."

"I thought we could go back to the forest," said Bones. "We could duel. You're quite good, aren't you?"

Draco wasn't sure when he'd stopped walking but, by the time she'd finished speaking, he was facing her once more and considering her proposal. "I'm amazing," he said. There wasn't much sport in duelling a near-Squib witch, but Draco already knew he was going to agree. There was no reason for it, no rhyme to it. He couldn't tell himself that he was still looking for her weaknesses. Every time he poked around for hers, she ended up finding his. Tactical retreat was the way to go here. Instead he looked her over, aiming for nonchalance when he said, "Can _you_ duel?"

Her eyes glowed brilliantly as the corners of her mouth flicked up into a grin. "Are you kidding? I've had lessons from the _Boy-Who-Lived_." Her voice took on a note of self-importance and awe on the last sentence but Draco was rather sure that she was being sarcastic so he allowed her a small, dry smile, leaning back against the door-frame as she sauntered towards him. She was definitely being sarcastic. No one sauntered like that for real.

"You must just be terrifying then," he drawled, tone all heat and boredom.

She smiled again, eyes very much like the killing curse. "Oh, yes," she said. "Fear me."

Her body was in the doorway, angled close but not touching him. Draco was glad. His palms were clammy and his breathing had hitched. If she tried to touch him, he was sure he would react violently. Perhaps he was coming down with something. When he was sure he could trust himself to speak, he took a breath and said, "Shall we?" His voice, he was grateful to note, came out like his own.


	23. Chapter 23

After the way her birthday lunch went, Bones didn't contact Draco. He waited, without really expecting her to. Occasionally an owl arrived from Fleur Delacour or Viktor Krum requesting urgent files, legislature or funds from Shacklebolt. The urgency made Draco suspect that Bones was behind most of the requests; though the handwriting definitely wasn't hers. It was decipherable for one. He retrieved the required items from Shacklebolt's people and sent them through as swiftly as he was able.

There were a few that he could have contacted Bones about. Some that extra information would have been helpful on; but he didn't push to see her when he was evidently unwanted. Besides Fleur's half-hysterical writing style was beginning to grow on him, so he sent his queries to her instead.

Four days before Christmas Hottie brought down Voldemort's Revenirs; the group of wizards that had been his power base in raising armies of Inferi. It was in the morning paper, but Shacklebolt sent through a quick memo in case Draco had managed to miss the front page spread.

He wondered whether it would be considered odd to cut the article out.

"Yes," said a voice and Draco looked up from his toast to find Nott walking towards him. He didn't ask how he'd come in. All of Draco's close friends had access to the manor, and they all knew that he was spending Christmas there.

"Yes?" he drawled instead, practicing what Pansy liked to call his sultry sex-god tone.

It was wasted on Nott who had no hormones. He merely shifted his shoulders back and raised an eyebrow at Draco. "Yes, it would be incredibly creepy if you cut that page out and squiggled little hearts over it as it looks like you're intent on doing."

Draco smiled easily. "Leave the sarcasm to me, Nott. I've told you you're no good at it," he said before setting his slice of toast down and spinning the paper around to show Nott. "Isn't she marvellous?'

"She's covered in blood," said Nott.

That made Draco frown at him. "Aside from that."

Taking his reading glasses out of his front pocket, Nott put them on and moved closer. "Is her nose broken?" he asked conversationally.

Draco made a sound of disgust and tossed the paper down. "She brought down The Revenirs and you're worried about a broken nose." He waved a hand, offering Nott a seat. He didn't offer Nott food, being aware that Nott would take what he wanted. "So why the visit?"

Picking up a croissant by the corner, Nott's brow furrowed. "We need to talk about this," he said. When Draco began to protest, Nott held up a hand. "Parkinson will find out something, somehow. We need to have a plan of some sort for that eventuality."

Draco smiled at Nott's concern, reaching for his slice of toast once more. "I'm keeping this low-key. There's no need for worry."

Stretching his shoulders under his thin shirt, Nott's brow did not smooth.

"Scrimgeour will win the election again then," said Draco. "It was a nice political stunt having The Revenirs come down right on the heels the anniversary of the fall of You-Know-Who."

Nott smiled finally. "I know that you're changing the subject on purpose. You have no subtlety." He allowed the topic to veer away from Bones, Pansy and plans though. Perhaps he realised that Draco wasn't up to it just yet.

"I am the God of Subtlety," Draco informed his friend firmly.

Theo was not the sort to smirk so his expression merely became graver. "Gods are not subtle."

Draco held his twice-bitten toast up in a silent salute to something that was not quite worth laughing at but worth acknowledgement, and then took another bite out of it.

"Things are going well with her?"

Looking up at Nott, Draco frowned.

"You're happier," Nott pointed out. "You're nearly cheerful today."

Draco leant back in his chair. "She's avoiding me," he said. "And she's very different to how she used to be; more like a Slytherin than a Hufflepuff really."

"Perhaps I'll like her more now," commented Nott, but his voice was dry and Draco was quite sure that he'd made his mind up on disliking Bones long ago.

He shrugged because it didn't matter. "We'll never be what we were. It's inconceivable to try; but there's room for something. If it works it will be something like what we had before but all cut apart and stitched back together with scars that won't fade."

Sounding genuinely confused, Nott asked, "So why are you smiling?"

Draco laughed his short, sharp laugh. "I like her, Nott. I really, really do. She's nothing at all like she was, but when I spend time with her, I just want more."

"Not something I needed to know," said Nott dryly.

Smiling at him, complacently, Draco said, "More time, Nott. I want more time."

Theo's mouth pulled upward into the smile he used when something pained him. "Things may not pan out that way, Malfoy," he said, voice soft. They had talked like that during the war; in voices incredibly low so as not to tempt fate to cruelty. Speaking hopes and dreams aloud was too presumptuous for dark times such as those.

Draco was glad that Nott was still being superstitious over Bones. She was too important to do it wrong.

Shaking the suddenly heavy mood away, Nott stood up. "Come on. If we have any chance of elbowing our way through the mad mothers and finding anything remotely useful we'll have to leave now."

Draco almost groaned. He'd forgotten that Nott and Parkinson were meant to be going shopping with him and, mentally going over the calendar in his mind, he realised that today was the agreed upon day.

Most of his friends would have teased him for his reluctance but teasing wasn't in Nott's nature. "Parkinson will be impatient," he said. "You know how she loves Christmas shopping."

"I know how she loves shopping," said Draco sardonically.

They found her wading through a sea of heavily jacketed men; palms delivering swift, sharp jabs at regular intervals. Theo was taller than most of those guys and she saw him before Draco had the chance to pull him out of sight.

"Nott! Here! Come!"

Draco had often wondered whether she thought of her friends as wayward dogs or whether she spoke to all men in that manner. Images like that were hard to erase so he had never asked.

He and Nott made their way into the wine shop in Diagon Alley, skirting around the other frazzled customers as they headed for Pansy. They reached her just as she finished wrenching what seemed to be the last bottle of Hennessy from an unlucky wizard's clutches. "Ha!" she cried in triumph, shoving her prize into Nott's hands. Glancing around swiftly, like a dragon scenting prey, she nodded to herself. "Crème de menthe," she said loudly to no one in particular before clawing her way further into the store.

Nott tucked the Hennessy into the crook of his arm. "Does she even drink crème de menthe? Does anyone drink crème de menthe?"

"On Christmas?" asked Draco. "I think we'll be drinking whatever it takes to get drunk and remain so."

Nott's mouth twisted in distaste. "Crème de menthe, Malfoy," he said in pained tones. "Please wrest it from her. Spare us."

"You don't drink," Draco pointed out.

"No, I'll be the one holding back your hair as you vomit your minty-fresh stomach contents up."

"Excuse me, I certainly don't need anyone holding my hair back as I vomit," said Draco in tones of deep indignation.

Heaping a load of insult to injury, Nott looked down his nose at Draco. Draco was pretty sure he'd _taught_ Nott that move; and if that wasn't bad enough, Nott was taller than Draco, making the whole thing oh so much more effective.

"That was _one_ time Nott. And if Parkinson hadn't been passed out under the table I would have gone to her. Girls are so much more sympathetic."

Nott glanced across the store, his features wrinkling into a frown. Following his gaze, Draco noticed Pansy crouched low over a mound of bottles, snarling when anyone approached too closely. "This is not good," said Nott.

"It's a reasonable posture," said Draco. "That's how the dragons in the Triwizard tournament protected their eggs." When Theo gave him a dumbfounded look, Draco reconsidered. "Of course all of those dragons did lose their eggs…"

"She's hexing people," said Nott, moving into the crowd.

They managed to get Pansy out of the store with a small fortune's worth of alcohol. She let them carry her bags, using her compact mirror as she smoothed her hair. "The Bat-Bogey Hex isn't really a hex, Nott," she said soothingly as he glared at the back of her head.

"It's called the Bat-Bogey _Hex_." As usual Nott sounded mildly disinterested; the tension of his shoulders, though, looked nearly painful.

"Well, it shouldn't be. It's not that unpleasant." Snapping her compact shut, Pansy turned to frown at her friends. "Get your House-elves to fetch the bags, for Merlin's sake. We have so much more to do," she said irritably.

Sighing, Draco called for Minty. He hoped unkindly that this shopping trip was as excruciating to Theo as it was to himself. Then maybe next Christmas no one would gang up on him and drag him out and he'd be left to brood alone at home. Minty arrived then and took the bags and Draco wished desperately that he could go home with her.


	24. Chapter 24

Christmas had once been Draco's favourite time of year. It no longer held any charm. He let the House-elves make the preparations and waved them away if they tried to ask for advice. If it weren't for the fact that they desperately wanted to set the manor up for all the Christmas cheer it could handle, he wouldn't have decorated at all.

He was a little drunk when Bones arrived on Christmas Eve. Drunk enough to make him coldly pleasant and charming. He was laughing when he opened the door, then Bones looked at him with eyes that were bleak as ice and he stopped.

"Invitation still open?" she asked, and Draco remembered that he'd invited her to Christmas over coffee a few weeks ago. Her nose had evidently been seen to by a healer as there was no evidence left that it had been broken in the past week.

"Yes," he said. "Of course."

She strode past him fluidly, shrugging off her cloak and turning to toss a bottle of scotch to Draco.

He caught it easily. "Thanks," he said, tucking it under his arm. "But we're not going to be needing it."

"No," agreed Bones, looking around.

The music was loud and, hooking his fingers into Bones', Draco led her to the living room where it was even louder. Marcus Flint was dancing on the table while Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode cheered. Draco leant in the doorway, drawing Bones closer to him and wolf-whistled.

"Merlin's balls, how did a Hufflepuff get in here?" asked Millicent coldly.

"Manners, Bulstrode," said Draco. The alcohol softened the edges of his tone, making him sound almost warm. Millicent obviously wasn't deceived. She gave him a withering look before going back to watching Flint.

"A lot of people here," commented Bones.

"Mm, you are a rodent among the snakes," said Draco fuzzily. "Stay close. I'll protect you."

"Badgers aren't rodents," said Bones.

"I'm quite sure they are," replied Draco. "And if they're not, they ought to be. And either way, snakes very much like to eat them."

Bones laughed.

Draco twisted the lid off the scotch bottle and took a long, deliberate sip. Leaning into the other side of the door-frame, Bones watched him. She was pretty sure that he'd already had quite a bit to drink, and it didn't seem like he'd be slowing down anytime soon. She could appreciate that. When he lowered the bottle, she reached for it.

"Parents cancel on you?" he asked, relinquishing the alcohol easily.

Gulping down several mouthfuls, she coughed and shook her head. "Nope," she said, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. "I couldn't stomach going home. It drives me crazy."

There were a lot of Slytherins around. Bones had thought that Draco would be alone for Christmas; he didn't have a father or mother anymore. He didn't have any family at all left. She'd forgotten that many of the younger Slytherins didn't have any family left; it made sense that they were prioritising old House-mates.

He smiled at her; the smile was softer now that he was drunk but his attention was focused on her as completely as ever. "You're lovely." She was pretty sure he wouldn't have said that if he'd been sober, but his voice was low and certain. "I noticed that you took down the Revenirs."

It had been front page news for the past few days so Bones laughed. "You noticed that, did you?" It was a better compliment than she was used to getting. Mostly people would follow up a statement of telling her that she was lovely with a compliment on her hair, or her eyes. Wizards didn't tend to compliment her on her Dark Wizard battling skills. She liked it.

Evidently finding her sarcasm endearing, he grinned and slid a hand through his hair. "I cut the article out and kept it," he said. "Nott assures me that this is very creepy."

"It is," agreed Bones, smiling and leaning back into the door-frame for support.

Draco held a hand out to her, grey eyes serious suddenly though his mouth still curled contentedly at the corners.

She stared at his hand for a moment, her own palms becoming clammy and her heart skittering like a nervous cat. He had touched her coming in, and generally if people touched her she just moved away from them as soon as she was able. She didn't touch others, not anymore. It was surreal in a way, because when she'd been younger touch had been as regular to her as anything. Now it was a somewhat alien concept.

She reached out a hand, letting him take it. If he had been any other stranger in the world she would have cringed under his touch; loathed it before it had begun. Intellectually it was a surprise that him twining his fingers with hers felt natural, but on some level she had expected it.

He didn't seem to notice the internal crisis she was having; not surprising really. She had so many of them that it would be a little awkward for people to realise it every time. Instead he led her to another room. This one was darker and quiet and Bones relaxed a little. This was more like the Christmas she'd expected, even if the muffled sounds of bawdy carols still drifted through the walls.

Curling up, catlike, in an armchair, Draco pulled her to sit beside him. "Are you okay?" His voice was soft and steady; two things that Bones would never ever associate with Draco Malfoy.

She wriggled into the seat. It was designed for one person, she suspected, but was big enough to seat one and a half. It would have been comfortable if she knew Draco a little better than she did. Finally, accepting that she was going to be half on his lap no matter how much she shuffled, she slipped her ankles across Draco's knees and sighed. "I'm okay," she said, but she didn't try to make the lie sound true. He leant in and kissed her shoulder and she laughed. "You're drunk," she told him, twisting the cap off the bottle and wondering whether she was surprised that he was an affectionate drunk. His affection had to come out sometime, she guessed, and it didn't while he was sober.

"I think I am. Maybe. Yes, I mean." He sounded as though he'd only just realised that he was drunk, and as though it displeased him.

She took a sip from the bottle.

"You're cold." For a moment she thought that he was complaining, but he was frowning rather than scowling.

Lowering the scotch, Bones licked a line of fiery liquid from her upper lip before her eyes dipped to where Draco's fingers were pressed against the hem of her robes. The fabric was cold and wet against her skin and she shrugged. "I walked around for a bit. Don't fuss."

He made a face at that. "I'm not concerned, Hufflepuff, I'm irate," he said. She could tell that he wasn't and wondered whether he wanted her to believe him or whether he was making fun of her. She didn't much care. She liked his voice when it was blurred and softened by the alcohol and would have happily listened to him make fun of her just to hear him speak. It wasn't as though she'd ever much minded people insulting her. Be a bit hypocritical if she did really.

Leaning her head against the back of the couch, she studied Draco. She was studying him critically, assessing him less for weakness now than for information. There was a reason for him trying with her. She didn't know what it was, or even what he was trying; but there were reasons and she needed to figure them out. Then she'd know what compartment in her life he slotted into. There weren't a lot of them, really. Work, Helen, friends and the one she tried to forget; her parents.

"I shouldn't have drunk," he said, suddenly leaning away from her. "I should have not drunk."

"You feeling sick?" she asked, but she didn't bother moving away. She'd been covered in blood and pus and other things that she didn't like to remember during the war; the idea of vomit didn't bother her.

With an emphatic shake of his head, he pushed a hand through his hair. "I just…If I'd known you were coming…"

He couldn't seem to get a coherent train of thought going. Bones found it mildly amusing but not enough so to pursue. "I don't care if you're drunk, Malfoy. I'm planning on getting pretty spiflicated myself. We can compete over who gets the drunkest if you want."

Draco made a face. "No class, you people. Intoxication ought to fall into one of two categories. Either there should be an aristocratic feeling of melancholy about the affair or it should be rustic and jocular."

"When you slur your big words," Bones informed him. "You sound aristocratic and jocular."

Draco squinted down his nose at her, somewhat fondly. "That is not at all what I was aiming for."

Bones lifted a shoulder and let it drop before swirling the amber contents of her bottle. Draco put a hand into his robes, and the work-orientated part of her brain told her that he was going for his wand. There were about three ways in which she could have taken him down before the tip of it cleared the pocket of his robes; instead she tipped her head back and took a long sip of scotch.

When Draco got his wand clear, he did point it at her, but the charm he cast was a warming one, followed by a quick-dry spell. "You were never good at House-keeping spells," he said, tone still warm and affectionate.

Swallowing hard, she shrugged again. "Never wanted to keep house." She was scaring herself too much for her voice to stay even. Unknown elements never got the chance to pull their wands on her. She'd taken Arthur Weasley down once for pulling a wand before she knew he wasn't someone else under Polyjuice Potion.

He gave a short, soft laugh; it came out husky and strangely pleased, as though he was proud of her. Then he leant forward and kissed her again. His mouth caught hers this time; inquisitive rather than demanding, and his lips were soft though Bones knew that hers were chapped. The kiss tasted of salt, lemon and tequila. She should have reared back; just as moments ago she should have hurt him rather than let him pull a wand on her.

Instead she leaned forward, reaching up with her free hand to catch his collar and draw him closer. The scotch bottle was between them; Bones was considering tossing it aside when Draco nipped her lower lip. She didn't fall apart; but came together. Adrenaline flooded her, making her blood fizz. It was as though Draco knew exactly what to do to make her pulse skitter into over-drive. Perhaps it was just the heady rush, but for once her emotions felt clear. Not congested; clogged up and smothered inside her own head. With him, she felt like a better version of herself.

Letting go of his collar, she ran her hand down his chest. She could feel the expense in the heavy fabric that slipped under her fingers like silk. Most witches wouldn't be able to tell much through robes like that, but she was used to finding weapons with her fingertips. His body was hard under the robes, his stomach flat. He tensed under her hand but didn't pull away from her, and she was surprised as the realisation that he was nervous flashed through her. The mouth on hers was unhurried though; curious as though searching for something in her. It seemed to call to her; and if she understood it she thought that she would have liked to answer the call.

Twisting, she pulled away from Draco. He let her go; her hair running through his fingers as it untangled from his hand. She didn't know what he wanted, but she tilted her head to the side and caught his gaze. "Sex?" she asked, because this couldn't be about anything else, and she just couldn't kiss him anymore. He undid her.

His body shook lightly. It took Bones a moment to realise that he was laughing. "Uhm…" he murmured finally, chewing on his lower lip and studying his hands. His ears were pink, which was strange. Bones would have thought that he'd have mountains of experience in this sort of thing. "Maybe some other time." Bones almost sagged with relief. She didn't need that potential train-wreck of a situation messing up her work. When he raised his head, he met her gaze without evident discomfort. Laughter still lurked in his grey eyes. "What I'd really like to do tonight is dance with you."

Bones' response was automatic, and bored. "I don't dance."

"Ah." Hands steepled, Draco tapped his index fingers against his mouth. "That would be why we get you drunk first."

He was used to having people twist themselves to accommodate him. Bones didn't know why she was so willing to let him try and twist her. But she laughed shortly and leant back into the armchair. "I do get drunk," she said pensively.


	25. Chapter 25

They made their way to one of the larger rooms where the music was loud, but not too loud to speak over. To the side was a bar where a Slytherin that Bones recognised vaguely as someone who had been a few years down from her was mixing drinks.

Draco procured barstools for both of them, down the shadowy end of the room, slinging an arm around behind Bones. "Oi, Baddock," he called and the Slytherin set down the tequila and came down to where they were. "Cocktails," said Draco, cheerfully. "Loads of them."

With an unconcealed look of disdain at Bones, Baddock pulled out the gin and began mixing up two glasses of Negroni. Now that she had a name to the face, Bones could remember more about Malcolm Baddock, though none of it was from Hogwarts. His family had been involved in the Dark Arts and the Ministry had sent Hottie extensive files on him just in case he began to show signs of going the same way as his parents. Bones had never paid much attention to families though. Proof needed to be more substantial than that.

Bored with Baddock, she glanced across the room at the make-shift dance-floor.

"Tell me about the Revenirs," said Draco, leaning close to mitigate the music.

Bones glanced back at him in surprise. "It's not very interesting," she said because she didn't usually talk about her work to anyone who wasn't a part of it.

Draco merely smiled. "Bore me then." He actually was interested though. His eyes were a little brighter than usual and he was concentrating on her wholly. He was a part of Hottie now, even if the part he played was small, so perhaps he wanted to know how much he had helped in the Revenir situation.

So she told him about the Revenirs; how they'd found them, tracked them and taken them down. They had gone through Firewhiskey, champagne and incredibly vintage cognacs before Bones had finished.

"Are you drunk enough to dance yet?" Draco asked when she was done, in that ruthlessly single-minded way was not unusual among Slytherins.

Rubbing the back of her neck, Bones nodded.

For some reason that made Draco laugh, low and dry. "I think I'm too drunk," he said, stretching his spine and flicking his gaze across at the dance-floor. He was taking his time enunciating words, as though worried that if he didn't he'd lose control of his voice.

Bones lifted her head and smiled at him; the smile that usually made her acquaintances step away from her.

"Ah," said Draco, eyes running over her in resignation. "Was that the plan?"

Bones shrugged. "You were drunk when I arrived. You had to know that getting me drunk enough to dance would get you too drunk to stand."

"Intoxicated," said Draco primly. "Inebriated. Soused, if you must."

Bones grinned at him, a flash of sharp teeth and steely gaze. "Pissed." She dropped the word into the silence with a delicacy that made Draco laugh aloud. "Wasted. Hammered."

"You, Bones, are sullying my reputation. I am a Malfoy. We do not get pissed, wasted or hammered."

Leaning so far over the bar that she almost fell off her stool, Bones caught up the bottle of tequila. "In that case," she said, sitting back in her seat to study the amber liquid. "You're disgracing your family name."

Draco smiled. "Yes," he said. "I know."

She took a shot of tequila, creased her nose and pronounced it foul before jumping over the bar lightly to look for salt and lemon wedges. Not finding any, she stole Baddock's rum and coke instead, downing it in one long swallow.

Theodore Nott was standing by Draco when she lowered her glass; leaning close to talk to him. Bones couldn't hear what he was saying over the music. Draco turned his head to reply, lifting his glass to shield his mouth as he did so. Evidently they didn't want her overhearing whatever it was they were discussing. Bones licked droplets of rum from her upper lip, watching the way that Draco's knuckles went white against the glass that he was clutching too tightly. Nott had angled his body so that Bones couldn't see his face clearly either, but his shoulders were bunched just as tightly under the shirt that he was wearing.

She stepped forward and put her pilfered glass down with more force than necessary, to let them know that she was there. "I'll go," she said casually.

Nott turned to look at her, mist-blue eyes running across her and face implacable.

Draco lowered his own glass and shook his head. "You've got nowhere to go."

That made Bones laugh. "I have a family," she said, because she knew that Nott didn't and she wasn't going to ruin his Christmas. Hottie would be empty, and Bones knew where Krum kept his stash of Chocolate Cauldrons so it wouldn't be a complete waste of a night.

Draco reached for her hand. "Stay," he said, voice softer and smokier. "I want you to. I could give you a tour?"

Bones was about to shake her head when Nott caught her gaze. "Take a tour," he advised, voice grave, as though there were layers to this conversation that Bones couldn't hope to comprehend. Mostly that was just Slytherins though. Their comments had been as ink-black cryptic in school as well.

Draco hadn't been going drink-for-drink with her but he was still well past inebriated. "You have to be able to walk if you want to give a tour," she pointed out.

For a moment Draco looked as though he was trying to decide whether to laugh or scowl. He settled on smirking. "I can walk. I have been doing so for most of my life," he said with disdainful dignity, pushing himself off his barstool and holding a hand out to Bones as he braced himself against the bar.

With a low laugh, she slid back over the top of the bar, landing a little more uncertainly beside Draco. She tucked a bottle of merlot into the crook of her right arm and let Draco take her left one.

They wound up sitting in the long family portrait gallery, curled up against the wall beside each other as Bones worked through her wine with slow but steady determination. Cradling the bottle between her knees, she studied the portrait of Lucius Malfoy. It had evidently been painted some years before his death, but the personality had been the same even when he had been younger. "Bit weird being surrounded by so many dead people," she commented, though her parents had walls full of photos for the dead.

Draco yawned and rubbed his eye with the palm of his hand.

She leant back against the wall and smiled an ice-cold smile that was so utterly unlike her Hogwarts smiles. "He deserved to die," she said.

Draco straightened, body tensing like a cat getting ready to attack. "Stop it."

Bones shrugged. "Hey, _I _didn't kill him."

"Stop it." Draco's voice didn't get any louder, but there was a ferocity to it that was almost violent.

Bones tilted her head to look at him. He was breathing faster, eyes narrowed. "Did you use the Avada Kedava?" She wasn't feeling impassive, but was aware that her voice sounded as though she was.

He pushed his back against the wall, working his jaw hard enough to grind his teeth down.

"Funny sort of curse, Avada Kedava," Bones commented. "That you have to mean it. Imagine meaning it – really meaning it – on your father."

Draco shoved his fists into his pockets as though he couldn't trust himself not to hurt her without that precaution. "I did mean it," he bit out, breath and voice rasping in anger. "And I'd mean it again if I had to. Difference between you and me, Bones? I stayed with my family until there was no family left to stay with. You can't even bear to look at yours."

Some things didn't change and Draco couldn't hurt Bones any more now than he had been able to at Hogwarts. She merely laughed, the sound echoing hollowly up the portrait gallery, and raised her wine bottle in silent salute before taking a swig. "I'm not judging," she said finally, wiping the back of her free hand against her mouth. "You killed your dad, I can appreciate that. Sometimes I think…I mean…" With a harsh sigh, she threw herself back against the wall, body making a dull thump of sound. Her eyes were so dark that there was barely any green to them as she studied the opening of the wine bottle, considering her next words. "I want to kill people too." Her voice was so low that Draco had to piece together what she'd said from the parts he heard. She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. "I won't, of course."

For a moment Draco simply stared at her. "That's…Bones, you can't be jealous of me because I get to kill people and you don't. That's just…It's really screwed up."

Bones laughed again, cheerfully incredulous because, of course even he should have noticed that she was screwed up.

Draco reached out and touched two of his fingers to her hand gently, as though he was afraid of hurting her; or of her hurting him. Hooking her thumb with his index finger, he brought her hand back to him and pressed a kiss into her palm. He'd had a lot to drink, but was feeling almost sober with how much she'd rattled him. "Bones," he said, voice soft. "My father…He was attacked by a Dementor before I ever did anything to harm him. If he had his soul, I'd never have…Killing has consequences for everyone. I did mean it; because he would have chosen death over that existence. But if I could have him back alive, then I would."

Bones studied him a moment before creasing her nose. "You are crushing all of my dreams," she said. "It is not kind."

That surprised him enough to laugh, though his throat was clogged with emotion and it came out strangled. He didn't let himself consider that she hadn't shown the least bit of compassion about his father, because then he'd have to consider that she really was broken and he couldn't face that. "What do you want?" he asked, because there had to be something. If they could figure it out then maybe things would be okay after all.

A frown creased her brow as though she wasn't sure what he meant.

"You're not happy," said Draco. "So what's your plan?" He knew that it couldn't be something as simple as her smiling and detailing an exercise regime to stimulate endorphins and make her normal again.

But he didn't expect her to straighten her spine and put the merlot bottle aside and say, "I want to find the remaining Death Eaters," as though that encompassed the entire plan. As though that was her entire reason for living.

It couldn't last forever though. "And then what?" Draco asked, wondering whether she had considered that Death Eaters were not an infinite resource and even now the fugitives were running low.

Bones turned her head to look at him, gaze steady. "That's all that's left for me."

An icy claw trailed its way down Draco's spine, and for a moment his breath stuck in his throat. "That's it? You take down the last Death Eater and then kill yourself?"

She shook her head, looking tired. "I'd never do that to my family," she said, eyes very hard. "Just…I don't think I'll care about drinking once I'm done."

It only took a moment for Draco to understand. Right now Bones only drank on her birthday and Christmas. Draco sank his teeth into his lower lip, not stopping even when he could taste the metallic tang of his own blood. It didn't work. He couldn't shake the image of Bones drinking herself to death in some run-down Knockturn Alley pub; and he knew that she'd do it with that same steely determination that she'd used to found Hottie and to drag her team through the war and to win 49 medals.

Draco reached out and took the bottle from Bones. He took a swig from it; feeling too fragile and far too sober. Sometimes it had to be better not to have tried, because Draco had tried so hard to keep Bones alive and he'd failed. Somewhere along the way she'd been damaged and even she had given up hope of fixing herself.

She reached out and rubbed his shoulder. "I told you, Malfoy. Skip the ones who are beyond help."

Panic suffused Draco, dragging him under before a memory came back to him with blinding clarity. "You kissed me back," he said, voice miraculously calm.

She shrugged, still rubbing his shoulder like he was a spooked Thestral. While he thought it was a bit condescending, it was also soothing. "Bit weird," she said. "Usually first kisses are so awkward."

Draco tried not to wince because, of course, their first kiss had been incredibly awkward and he had wished that she would forget it for months before finally, she did.


	26. Chapter 26

It had happen right after that display in the Astronomy Tower, which was ironic after the fact. Draco had been so furious with Bones when he'd thought that she'd spread rumours about them that it really made no sense for him to kiss her less than two hours later.

They didn't make it to the clearing for their duel that night. Draco hexed Bones the moment the school grounds were out of sight. He'd never seen someone collapse so fast under a Bat-Bogey Hex. Then she screamed and all of the newly made bats froze in mid-flight.

Still on the ground, her wand arm came up. "What are you doing?"

If anyone else had managed to foil a Bat-Bogey Hex and have their wand pointed at him so quickly Draco might have been daunted. As it was her, he smirked, a feeling of unexpected relief washing over him. "How did you do that?" he asked, watching the bats float helplessly in the air.

Bones didn't move. She was on her side in the leaf litter, her wand pointed at Draco's throat and her arm was very steady. She looked bewildered and a little hurt though, so Draco relented.

"I'm Slytherin, Hufflepuff," he told her. "When you offered me a duel did you really think I'd wait until you were ready?"

She looked as though she didn't understand the question. "Yes," she said finally, voice small.

Draco laughed at her.

"You're meant to wait until both people are ready!" Bones protested, lowering her wand finally and sitting up to dust her lap off. Too soon, Draco thought, eyes narrowing as he watched her. She should never have let her guard down so quickly around someone who had just hexed her. "That's the point of a duel…"

"No," he cut in sharply. "The point of a duel is to win. And I just did." He was almost snarling at her and it was only just starting to dawn on him why he'd hexed her like that. It wasn't about winning; she was an inept Hufflepuff who occasionally got too close to comfort when it came to emotional matters. She'd never had a hope of winning a duel against him to begin with; wouldn't have even been able to hold her own ground.

No, he wanted to help her. She was a Bones. When the war came, and the war _was_ coming, her family would be at the forefront as they had been the last time. She needed to learn how to fight. Playing by the rules wasn't going to help her; she had to know how to fight dirty or she didn't have a chance.

Draco tried not to think about what his father might say about him helping the enemy. He sighed and stepped forward to reach a hand out to Bones. "Look," he said gently as she trustingly put her warm fingers into his. "I'll give you some pointers on…" Then he hexed her again.

Or tried to. Before he managed to get the last of the incantation out, she jabbed him in the windpipe with the tip of her wand.

He fell back; pain spiking through his throat and flaring out when he dragged in a breath. Then it was gone and Draco turned his head to stare at Bones. He'd evidently collapsed into the leaf-litter too, as he was on the same level as her. Her wand was pointed at him once more and, when she flicked the tip up, he recognised the healing charm that she was casting. Bracing himself, Draco took another breath. Her healing charms were obviously better than her curses because there was no pain.

"You learn fast," he said, hoping that his voice didn't betray how much it had shaken him.

Her eyes widened and Draco wondered whether she was that surprised to get a compliment from him. Then she looked away, her brow furrowing. "You were gentle," she said slowly. "You're never gentle when you're talking to me so…" She shrugged.

"So you suspected a trap," finished Draco, nodding and mentally filing her critique away for future reference. It amused him that she was downplaying the compliment; very Hufflepuff.

She smiled a little before turning over in the leaf litter and pushing herself to her feet. Looking around himself, Draco creased his nose in distaste and got up as well. He dusted the shoulders and knees of his robes, glancing down his front to see if any leaves still clung to him.

Bones was doing the same but Draco stepped across to help her as she had fared far worse than he from her time on the ground. Evidently her robes were not warded against general debris.

"Here," he said, voice clipped and irritable as he plucked the leaves from her hair. They crumbled in his hands, which made him scowl. "Just…" He caught her shoulders and held her steady. "Stand still."

Looking impatient, she obeyed.

"You could learn a simple cleansing charm," Draco suggested, pointing his wand at her and demonstrating.

She huffed out a breath, sending an errant strand of hair into her eyes. She probably couldn't learn a simple cleansing charm, Draco decided. Or it would take her a decade if she tried.

"Are we still duelling?" she asked, shoving her hair behind her ear.

The tip of Draco's wand was still pointed at her and he smiled. "Learn from your mistakes, Hufflepuff. At least wait until my wand's down before offering me another round." He was too close to her. If she moved forward even an inch, she'd touch him. Draco stepped back, feeling his face flush. He looked away. "Do you want to have a fair duel this time?" he asked sharply.

"No." When Draco looked back at Bones, she was running her plait through her hands one after the other, like she was nervous suddenly. "I like how you duel," she said.

Draco stretched his back and watched her warily, waiting for the punch-line. It didn't come. She actually seemed to be in earnest about this. Something warm unfolded in him but, until Bones grinned at him, eyes lighting up like a lumos, he didn't realise that he was smiling at her. He reined his emotions in hard, brows furrowing and giving Bones a reproving look.

They duelled for a while longer; and Draco cheated, but Bones didn't. He was surprised that she could hold her own once she lost her inhibitions. Zabini was absolutely right to be wary of her; given a few years she'd be able to match Potter or Granger. Even with his knowledge of Dark Arts and all the dirty tricks he knew, he was only just keeping up with her.

Rather than relying on her wand, she used the forest to thwart him. Disappearing into it or transfiguring distractions from it. She was more physical than he expected too. Just when he'd deflected her wand arm and thought he had her pinned, she'd slam her body into him, pushing him back long enough to get her wand aimed at his throat once more. He was on the defensive for the entire duel.

A stone golem came up behind him suddenly, towering over him and he blasted it with a series of frantic Reductor curses. It crumbled and Draco's body relaxed in relief a moment before he realised that Bones had been behind the golem the whole time. She flicked her wand, casting a brutally swift disarming charm that sent his wand flying.

There was a hardness in her face; but it melted away when she smiled, looking delighted. "I win."

Draco wasn't a graceful loser so he scowled. "Says the girl who's had training from The Boy Who Lived," he said sharply. He knew she deserved the credit, no matter who had taught her, but he couldn't give it to her anyway.

"Yeah," she said, looking down at her wand as though she'd surprised herself. Even in the low light he could tell that she was blushing again. "I guess I picked up more than I thought." She shook herself a little as though getting rid of her excess energy and tucked her wand back into her robes. There was a thin sheen of sweat on her skin, making it glow, and she was pink from blushing and from the duel. Her breathing was coming fast, and Draco could feel his heart beating in time with it. "We should make a fire," she said, looking around. His thoughts had started to head in crazy directions so it was probably good that she'd broken the silence.

With the fire crackling, she didn't seem to mind sitting in the loamy leaves of the forest, listening to the sounds around them as though she was interested and she wasn't afraid.

Draco moved around her, searching the forest with his gaze. It wasn't so frightening with her there and he wondered whether that was because he trusted that she'd stay should anything try to harm them.

"I saw the Dark Lord here once," he commented idly. It had been terrifying then, and still was a little but the forest seemed friendlier tonight.

Bones tilted her head, eyes searching. Draco straightened, realising that he had just called Voldemort by the title reserved for Death Eaters. "That must have been frightening," was all she said finally. She didn't seem interested in the story and for some reason that made Draco relax. The entire wizarding community was so worried about Voldemort and the struggle that was sure to follow. It was refreshing to find someone who didn't care. Though a part of Draco knew that he was relieved too, that Bones had no expectations of him supporting Voldemort. She seemed to believe that he didn't have a side. No one had ever thought that about him before. Even his father was certain that he'd join the ranks of Death Eaters, though for some reason the thought made Draco go a little cold inside.

"Your family died fighting You-Know-Who," he said.

Bones shrugged her shoulders. "My dad doesn't talk about it much," she said. "I had an uncle and his wife and some cousins die but I didn't know them."

Draco watched her face in the flicker of the fire. She was studying the flames and they were lighting her green eyes.

He reached out a hand and brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek. It must have come loose when he'd hexed her, because usually her hair was immaculate.

She smiled softly, still not taking her eyes off the fire.

Something uncurled in Draco's stomach. Something he hadn't felt before. His fingers felt clumsy, clammy, just strange in her hair; but he didn't want to take them away. "Here," he said, moving closer so that she was leaning into his side. "You're cold." He made sure that his voice was indifferent and hard with no room in it for kindness.

"I'm okay," she said, turning her head to look at him. Her eyes caught glints off the fire and she looked warm and malleable.

She had never been the kind of girl that he would want to lean forward and kiss; but he did just that, catching her surprised mouth and winding his arm around her. She fitted more comfortably than Pansy ever had; curling into him like someone who was used to touch would, rather than bracing herself as though she had no idea what to expect.

Then his mouth pressed against hers and she pulled away, yelping low and falling backwards into the leaf-litter.

It wasn't until then that Draco realised that an action like that was going to have consequences. He pushed himself away from her too, staring at her and wondering what had possessed him. How he could be so utterly thoughtless. She was going to expect things. She was going to let the whole school know that she expected things. No matter how much she protested that she didn't, this would change things. Draco pushed himself to his feet and turned away from her, walking fast back towards the safety of Hogwarts and determined to keep going even if she called for him to stop.

She didn't call anything and Draco reached the outer wall of the building, panting from the swift pace he'd kept and sweating because he couldn't believe that he had just betrayed himself so completely.

There was nothing about her that made her worth that kind of a risk. It had to be stress or nerves. Or maybe he was trying to screw his life up before the Dark Lord could do it for him. Back pressed against the cold stone of the wall, Draco stared up at the sky, swearing quietly under his breath.

He would make sure that he was never alone with her again. He'd magi-cuff himself to one of his peers if he had to. Evidently he couldn't be trusted on his own.

But…she was going to tell everyone. That was humiliating for sure; but the real reason that Draco's stomach was churning in anxiety was that as soon as the school knew what had happened, his father would. Draco knew his father's nature. He knew that Lucius would be delighted to be able to hand one of the Bones' over to the Dark Lord. In some ways having it be one of the younger Bones' would make it better; a strategic move that would weaken the more powerful members of that clan even as it thinned their ranks.

Draco slammed his palm back into the wall and the raw pain of it snapped him back. It didn't matter. She was always going to die; and there was no reason to worry about that. She couldn't offer him anything that he needed, or even that he wanted. That made her neutral territory, and she could stand or fall without him wasting emotions on it.

He told himself that this was true until he believed it. And yet; he waited until he saw her emerge from the Forbidden Forest unharmed before he went inside.


	27. Chapter 27

He wanted to avoid her for months. Until she forgot his name; forgot his face. Potions was going to be a nightmare. She'd be clingy and she'd have expectations. Her manner was so openly confident that even if he explained oh so carefully that she wasn't pretty like Daphne Greengrass or rich like Pansy Parkinson, she wouldn't understand.

Her friends would know already.

Perhaps the best course of action would be to turn all of this around on her. Accuse her of wanting him before she could convince the school that he'd kissed her.

He hadn't counted on her Hufflepuff tendencies, however. She was waiting on the window-seat in the stairwell to the Owlery for him when he went up to see his owl the next morning. For a moment Draco considered hexing her. Her eyes brightened when she saw him though, and that moment passed. No one else he knew had ever looked happier when he'd walked into a room.

"Malfoy," she said and her voice wasn't quite right. It hitched at the end. She was bracing herself against the window-seat; booted feet pressed tightly against one side of it and her hand white on the stone beside her.

Draco mustered the coldest tone he could command. "Bones."

The severity of his voice made her relax, mouth curling up at the corners. "It was stupid," she said, as though she thought he agreed. Her voice, when she spoke again, came out soft and fast as though she was bargaining with him; or begging him. "It was just…I mean, you're so good with things like fashion and potions and…It doesn't mean anything, does it?"

A gentle wave of affection suffused Draco and he truly didn't know what was wrong with him to make him feel these things around her. "You're making no sense, Hufflepuff."

She cleared her throat, brow furrowed, nose creased and looking cross. "A stupid kiss doesn't mean anything," she said, still as though she was pleading for something. "It doesn't have to mean anything. And I'd…I like hanging out with you."

For a moment he stared at her, trying to figure out exactly what she was saying. But it was obvious. Hufflepuffs were empathetic; she knew that he could never want her and she wanted him to know that she would accept friendship if romance was out of the question.

He scowled at her anyway, because kissing her was still the most humiliating thing he had ever done. "Of course it didn't mean anything, fool."

She smiled then, bright as sunshine and twice as warm. It was pitiful really; that she was so starved for attention that she'd lower herself to accept scraps when actual affection wasn't available. "I'd better go," she said, swinging her legs off the window-seat and jumping lightly to her feet. "Fred and George are testing some sort of trick specs. It's all very hush-hush." There was laughter in her voice as though she didn't think anyone would want to know about trick specs anyway. Draco wanted her to stay, and wondered whether he could persuade her; then hated himself for wanting it.

He stepped stiffly out of her way, making sure there was room enough that she wouldn't have to touch him.

She did anyway, stepping into his personal space to lay her hand gently on his arm, fingers rubbing against the thick material of his robes. She didn't say anything though she looked as though she would have liked to. Finally she shook her head, smiled to herself and headed back out of the Owlery.

Rubbing the spot that Bones had touched, Draco tried to ignore the small warm flare in the pit of his stomach.

It took him too long to realise that Bones' behaviour had never been about what he thought of her. It had always been about what she thought of him. Right now, the only thing that he worried about was how deep Bones' crush on him ran and whether it would make her unpredictable.

Perhaps two days later, she found him again, tucked into the corner of the library now and using the end of his quill to dust powdered ginger from his Potions text.

"Hello."

He didn't notice at first how bright her eyes were, though he should have. They were practically glowing Avada Kedavra green. "Hufflepuff," he drawled, letting his mouth curl into something that was not quite a sneer. She was too big of a liability. She needed to be extracted. He'd decided it soon after she had spoken to him in the Owlery. He couldn't control himself when she was there and things were too messy with her around. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Her mouth quirked up on one side as though she wasn't sure of him, or his manner was making her nervous but she glanced around quickly and slid into the seat beside him when she was sure that no one was watching.

She cleared her throat, moving closer and then stopping abruptly and glancing sideways at him. If she shuffled over one more inch, she would be touching him. If she touched him, he would hex her.

"I'm...Did you want..?" she seemed more flustered than usual and Draco wondered whether he should prepare to ward her off. Slipping one hand into his robe pocket and closing it around the base of his wand, he waited.

She wasn't pretty, still. Her hair was in that severe braid and her eyes might have been a lovely green, but they weren't wide enough. Her face was too round. But Draco sort of liked it all. He wished that his stomach would behave when she was so close, but for some reason, it wouldn't.

"I'm going to Hogsmeade," said Bones resolutely. She was staring at the parchment that was spread out on the table and looked annoyed that she was saying this to Draco. "Did you want to...I mean if you wanted..?"

Draco wasn't surprised that she was asking despite her declaration earlier that friendship was fine. He was, however, appalled at himself for wanting desperately to agree to the outing and deal with the consequences afterwards. "Hufflepuff," he said instead. "We have discussed this. Friendship is all that is on offer here."

Bones stared at him. Finally she laughed. "No," she spluttered before shaking herself. "I'm...I'm sneaking out," she whispered. "Tonight. Did you want to?"

"Oh," said Draco. He studied Bones for some moments, surprised that she would do something like sneak out of Hogwarts at all, let alone to go to Hogsmeade where she could go freely on any Hogsmeade weekend.

"I thought maybe it would be more fun with someone else," she said and shrugged uncertainly. "But if you'd rather not..."

"How were you planning on getting through the wards made to contain students?" asked Draco. It was stupid to even think about it. If he was caught, his father would be livid. If he was caught with Bones he would never live it down. But there was nothing in the world that would stop him from saying yes to this. He wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything.

"Well..." she looked uncertain. "I was going to make it up as we went along."

"Idiot," said Draco without rancour. He stood and went to the shelves, searching for the section on Hogwarts books. It wasn't as comprehensive as he might have liked, but he knew how to use it. On coming back to the table with a few of the tomes, he shoved Bones along on her seat. "Better if you're not seen here," he said coolly. "I'm not entirely sure how I'd explain it to Pansy. I mean, not that she'd consider someone like you competition."

Bones smiled and stood up. "I'll meet you near the Whomping Willow tonight," she said softly before turning on her heel and walking away.

Draco watched her until she was out of sight before opening the book at the top of the pile.

Bones found him later that day, walking into an alcove by him and sitting on the seat to look out at the Hogwarts grounds. "I think it will be better if I go to Hogsmeade alone tonight," she said, not turning to look at him.

Draco frowned. She had probably decided to go with Ernie Macmillan who she couldn't seem to keep her eyes off during breakfast, lunch, dinner and classes. "Do you have a reason for this inexplicable change of mind?" he inquired.

"You're with Pansy," she said, sounding as though this was the last topic that she could wish to discuss.

"That's none of your business, Hufflepuff," said Draco pleasantly.

"It's a statement, not a question," said Bones. "You said in the library today that she wouldn't consider me competition. If you're not with her then she wouldn't consider anyone competition, or it would make no difference to you if she did."

"I'm not going to discuss my personal matters with you," said Draco.

"I'll discuss them with you then," said Bones. "I'm not trying to pry; I'm just going to say that you have two options here."

Draco sighed and waited for her to hit him with the jealous tirade that he was told that girls were so fond of.

"I'm not going to hang out with you until you tell her that you kissed me," she said.

"Excuse me?"

Even under his darkest tone, Bones didn't flinch. "She's your girlfriend," she said. "And if you can't treat her with respect then I want nothing to do with you. You don't have to tell her. I mean it was a spur of the moment, stupidly brief kiss. But if you don't tell her then you have to decide not to see me anymore. You can't just keep spending time with me and not tell her. It's wrong."

"Our ideas of right and wrong seem to differ," said Draco. Then he shrugged. He doubted that the Hufflepuff had enough resolve to follow through with her threat but there was no point in starting an argument over it. "But, if it means that much to you, I'll tell her tonight."

She nodded. Draco had a plan for how to get around the whole issue to Bones' satisfaction that didn't require him to tell Pansy anything, but Bones seemed to think that if he said he'd tell Pansy something then he would. She was so ridiculously easy to deceive that he almost felt cheated.

He was late meeting Bones by the Whomping Willow. Not because anything had held him up, but because he didn't want her getting the idea that she warranted punctuality. Instead of berating him she smiled, climbing to her feet from the grassy slope she'd been sitting on and dusting her robes off.

"Aren't you going to ask me how it went?" asked Draco dryly.

Creasing her nose, she shook her head. "It's none of my business," she said. "You told her; I don't care about the rest."

"You don't care if she dumped me horribly and decided to slander my name up and down the Slytherin common room?"

Bones sighed, turning to walk down the path that would lead to the Forbidden Forest. "You made your choice. She has the right to make hers."

Draco stopped dead and stared at the back of her head until she turned to him with a frown gathering on her brow. He would have expected her to be sympathetic about this sort of a thing. It should have been her chance to make Pansy look bad and make herself look good in comparison. "Don't you feel the least bit sorry for me?"

Bones laughed at him. "For you? Merlin, no. I feel sorry for Pansy."

Draco scowled at her before she could tell him that he'd damaged her opinion of him. "It's all conjecture anyway," he snapped. "You presume too much."

"She didn't dump you," said Bones, not sounding particularly surprised and not sounding at all disappointed.

"Considering that we weren't dating in the first place, it would have been a bit of a challenge for her," said Draco with a sneer. Bones' brow creased in confusion but Draco cut in before she could ask any questions. "What kind of a wizard do you think I am?"

Her mouth curved into a sweet, slow smile that made Draco clench his fist to keep from smiling back. "You're very strange," she said, but her eyes were brighter in the star-light before she turned away from him, heading for the Forbidden Forest once more. Draco felt the tension leave his shoulders. It was ridiculous how much he wanted her to think that he was principled. He'd never cared before what people had thought. Though, no one had ever thought there was a chance that there was any good in him. She seemed to expect it; and he wanted her to be right, though he knew that she wasn't.

"The gates are this way," he called, seeing where she was headed.

Waving the comment away without turning back, Bones kept walking. Draco swore and went after her. She cast him a sidewards smile when he pulled level with her. "With Umbridge around, the main gates aren't really safe," she said. "The twins say that there's a way out if we head through the Forbidden Forest. I wrote instructions." She pulled a crumpled piece of parchment out of her pocket and waved it like a trophy.

Great, he was going to die following instructions from the psychopathic Weasley twins.


	28. Chapter 28

He didn't die; but he came close. They both did.

The Weasleys had taken their direction-giving duties seriously though. Seemingly with ease, Bones led them to a wall and found a chink in it large enough for Crabbe or Goyle to climb through. "It shouldn't be warded," she said over her shoulder before crushing the parchment of directions in her fist and tossing it through the gap. Nothing flashed or burned so Bones stepped up onto some of the bricks that had crumbled to the forest floor and climbed the fissures in the old wall. The opening was quite high, but she managed to scramble into it with something that might not have qualified as grace but seemed impressive anyway. She stopped once there, turning easily so that she was sitting in the hole and grinned at Draco, reaching out to him. "Give me your hand."

Draco wasn't that stupid. The way of hand-holding led to a long road of shame and self-hatred. "Don't be ridiculous. I can get through myself."

She shrugged and turned to jump lightly out of the Hogwarts' grounds.

It took Draco longer than it had taken her to figure out how to climb the chinks in the wall but he got it, dropping down to land by Bones moments later.

She was already scoping out the area around them, but turned to wrinkle her nose at him when his boots hit the leaf-litter. He stayed upright and glared at her. It was only when she raised her eyebrows and turned away that he realised that the nose had been an affectionate gesture, not a reproval. She scooped up the piece of parchment as she began walking. "Road's this way," she said before he could rectify the situation. Not that he would have anyway. There was nothing he could have said without compromising himself.

They had barely taken a dozen steps towards the road before Bones stopped dead. Draco glanced at her; he'd had his hand on his wand since they'd gone into the Forbidden Forest but he began to pull it now, before he even saw the shudder work its way through Bones' frame. "What is..?" he began, reaching his free hand out to touch her because she looked terrified. It surprised him how warm his voice had sounded. Before he could ponder the implications of any of that, he felt what she had. A deeply biting cold wrapped around him as the stars above flickered out. There was no point in asking Bones what was going on; Draco knew. He could already feel the despair enfolding him.

When the two Dementors came gliding into the open for them it was probably the most terrifying moment of Draco's life. He didn't know how to cast a Patronus. Voldemort controlled the Dementors now and no one had thought he'd need one. And Bones was there. Maybe he deserved whatever was coming for knowing so much and never saying anything; but she didn't. If they were up against anything else; werewolves, Death Eaters, even Voldemort himself, he might have been able to buy her enough time to get away. Time could not be bought against Dementors.

His hand was still pressed against her shoulder blade and he slid it down her spine, trying to keep his breathing steady. It was a losing battle. "Bones." He forced his voice to soften in a way it never had before; setting the timbre of it to soothe and comfort. If they were going to have their souls taken then he wanted to think that, in it all, he had done something right. He didn't deserve salvation, but he wanted to take a step towards redemption.

Her jaw tilted back and she let out her breath. It wasn't in defeat. She was going to fight the same as every Bones before her had and every one after her would; and someone like her should not have had to take their last stand with him. Then her arm came up, wand in hand and she was casting a Patronus so bright that it almost blinded Draco.

When he could see again, the Dementor's were retreating.

"Merlin. Fuck." He doubled up, panting; palms clammy and chest aching as his heart thumped against his ribs. His stomach was churning; but he turned his head to look at Bones.

She was very white in the wand light; eyes open wide and body shaking too hard to hold her wand steady, even though she'd obviously cast a Lumos. Adrenaline and fear. Draco was riding a wave of it too.

"Hey," he said, stepping toward her. He knew better than to touch her; he should have by now, but he wound an arm around her and pulled her into him, pressing his mouth into her hair. She was amazing. Even through the haze of stress and relief he knew that when he thought of this moment later; he would remember how she looked fighting, not how scared he'd been. It took him a moment to realise that her legs weren't supporting her. He probably could have held her up for a while, but his nerves were shot, so he lowered them both to the ground.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, seeming completely unabashed to be leaning right up against him. "I should never have asked you to come. It was so stupid." She sounded as though she might start crying. Usually that would be all sorts of terrifying but Draco had used up his quota of fear for the night.

"We need to get back to Hogwarts," he said, glancing back at the wall they had climbed through. She was warm and soft though, and he didn't really want to move.

Sitting up straighter, she stared at the wall too. Her eyes were already pretty dark with the insufficient light from her Lumos charm, but he swore they got darker. "You go," she said. "I've got…" The pause was perceptible; stretching across long enough moments that even someone without a suspicious nature would be able to see the lie. "I've got a friend I need to see in Hogsmeade."

"Are you joking?"

Looking miserable, but resolute, she shook her head. She still had the piece of parchment crushed in the fist that wasn't holding her wand and Draco reached out, wresting it from her grasp. When he opened it, it was blank.

"No directions," he said, voice calm but full of raw accusation. He thought of how easily she'd found the barely visible path to the wall, how quickly she'd seen the opening in it and how effortlessly she'd navigated the footholds to get through it. "Were the Weasleys even the ones who found that?" He pointed towards the wall, glaring at her as he pushed her away from him. She did not try to draw him back.

"I found it," she said.

He was thinking more clearly now. More like a Malfoy. She hadn't been careful enough to make her lie look as though it stood alone; and the one lie revealed others the moment Draco looked at the situation objectively. "And the clearing where I helped you with Fiendfyre?" he demanded.

She lifted her shoulders and let them drop. "I found that too. Harry wouldn't have told me about a place even if he knew of one. The forest's dangerous."

It stung that she had so much faith in Harry Potter keeping her safe and so little faith in him. She had asked him outright to go to the forest, evidently not thinking for a moment that he would share Potter's gallant outlook on life. "Really?" he snarled, letting the word drip venom. She backed away from him across the leaf-litter and he was gratified. "What was all of this then?" he demanded, keeping the tone. She had just stared down two Dementors so he knew that she wasn't afraid of him; but the tone did something to her and right now it was the only weapon he had. "This meeting up stuff? Was it some sort of ruse you were using to show the school how utterly malicious I am?" He knew better though. She was a Bones; she would be trying to get to his father through him. And he had let her.

"I don't think you're malicious," she exclaimed, looking mortified that he could think that of her.

"I am," he said, tone all ice and frost. He hoped it hurt her. "You have no idea."

For a moment she stared at him before sighing and pushing herself to her feet. He rose too. He would not have her look down at him on top of everything else tonight. "I'm sorry," she said, voice stilted and a little too formal. She didn't blush though, so she was being sincere. "I just wanted to spend time with you; I didn't want…" She shrugged again as though too much had gone wrong to work into words.

Part of him – most of him – wanted to throw down and hit her with everything he had. He was almost beyond caring that he'd never been able to gather any sort of ammunition on her, he had no idea of how to hurt her, and everything he did in conjunction with her turned out wrong. He was hurt; and he wanted her to feel it. But – she hadn't blushed; her eyes were clear and had stayed on him. There was a significant chance that she had just wanted to spend time with him. And a huge part of him was trying to clamour that whole argument out of existence in favour of sweeping her away in a wave of acidic fury-filled diatribe. "You need to explain this," he snapped out, the words broken up into sharp, disjointed sounds. He had never given anyone the benefit of the doubt before; and he was giving it to her far more often than he should have. Not wanting to even think about what that meant, he glared at her. It was too much ammunition; this on top of everything else. She already had enough to break him.

"I'm…" she looked around, as though searching for answers in the trees.

"The truth," he bit out.

"I'm a Bones," she said. Her voice was steady, so was her gaze; anchored on his suddenly. She spoke as though that part explained the whole. It did. She was a Bones, and the Bones' were notoriously against the Dark Arts.

"I'm a Malfoy," Draco spat at her. He realised only after he said it that he had put too much fire behind the words, as though he wasn't so sure that he was a Malfoy. Damn it, only she could do this to him.

She kept his gaze. "You're my friend."

Draco searched her face for any sign of a lie. He didn't find one and the relief of it almost made him sag.

"I won't lie to you again," she said, sounding almost pleased at the situation. "Not about important things. I'm no good at subterfuge anyway."

"Good," said Draco, voice hard and not ready to let her off the hook yet. "What's going on?"

She smiled, eyes lighting up in delight. "I'm trying to learn defence," she said. "Umbridge hasn't been the best teacher and the war's looming so…" She shrugged as though that explained it all, twirling her wand easily. "That was the first time I cast a Patronus on Dementors," she said. "I wasn't sure I'd be able to. Happiness is so…" Frowning, she tilted her head. "Intangible? Harry made out like you had to have this one really, really strong happy memory, and I don't."

Draco remembered her asking about the nature of happiness the night she'd gone swimming in the Forbidden Forest. She'd sounded as though she'd thought about the issue for days and hadn't been able to figure it out. "Well, how did that..?" he motioned to the cloudless sky to indicate the lack of Dementors and she shrugged.

"I guess my whole life has just been so happy that one memory doesn't really stand out from the rest," she said. Her lips twisted uncertainly. "That would mean Harry's life has been so…" She broke off and shook her head, but Draco got it. Potter didn't have enough happiness in his daily life to use that if he had to fish about for one strong memory. Draco might have taken more satisfaction from that notion if he wasn't uncomfortably aware that he would probably fit into the same category.

"Why are we going to Hogsmeade?" he asked, rather than dwell on that idea. It was then that he realised that while Bones didn't intend to lie to him any longer, it didn't mean that she intended to tell him the truth.

"I can't tell you that," she said easily, finding a new path in the dim light and taking it. "I can tell you more about the D.A. lessons though."

After everything that had happened – after how much ground Draco had already conceded – he strongly considered throwing a hissy fit at this latest indignity. It was done though. He had grudgingly accepted her apology and he doubted that any amount of pushing would win him back the pride he had lost in the bargain. He sighed philosophically and started after her; feeling less annoyed about the whole thing than befitted a Malfoy.


	29. Chapter 29

Draco woke up alone in his bed. Raising a hand to ward off the light shining through the windows, he looked around blearily. His memory of the previous night had gaps but he was pretty sure that he and Bones had both crashed in here after leaving the portrait hall. He rolled off the bed, gaining his feet more steadily than he had expected.

Pansy was in the dining room with Nott. Draco wondered whether she had seen Bones yet. From the resigned expression on Nott's face, she knew something. Draco was about to back up and look for Bones elsewhere when Parkinson turned around. Her eyes were always hard; but today her expression matched.

"Hufflepuffs, Malfoy?" she drawled and Draco could tell from the coldness of her tone that she would not forgive this easily. "I thought that you were over that rather plebeian phase of yours." Pansy was not good at concealing her emotions. Draco could feel the fury in each word she uttered; and he was far too hung over for this conversation.

"Is there coffee?" he asked. Reaching out, Nott pushed a steaming mug towards him on the table. Draco took it gratefully. After he had taken a sip, he set it back down. Running his index finger around the lip of the mug, he considered Pansy's comment. "She wasn't ever a phase," he said finally.

Pansy laughed. "She wasn't ever a phase for you," she said, her tone agreeable even if it was still coated in anger. "You were a phase for her. Her little rebellious fling before she settled into her staid Hufflepuff life. You're not meant to get attached to the girls who are using you to annoy their parents, Malfoy."

Something clattered in the doorway and the three spun toward it. Bones was leaning against the door-frame, pulling her boot on. "There's been an attack," she said. "I have to go." Her robes were still crumpled from having been slept in and she looked tired; not at all ready for battle.

Draco put his mug of coffee down and Theo stood up. It was Pansy who spoke. "We're coming with you."

And because Slytherins had learnt to stay together during the war; and had relearned it afterwards, many of the people who were still at Malfoy Manor came with them.

They arrived to find the world burning. Bones was moving before Draco or the other Slytherins had recovered from the Apparation; casting hexes with a frugality of movement that Draco had never seen in another witch or wizard. There was no flourish at all to her motions. Having taken no more than five steps, she had already brought two Death Eaters and a werewolf down.

She could take care of herself though; Draco's friends were not in the same situation. Only Pansy and Theo had actually fought during the war. The others had helped, but had never stood on the front lines. Draco had to stay with them.

Death Eaters and a pack of poorly dressed people that Draco recognised as werewolves surrounded the incredibly ugly building that Draco had to assume was the Weasley's home. There were spells crackling in the crisp winter air; and from the smell of them Draco could tell that they were Anti-Disapparation spells.

Motioning for the others to spread out, Draco went forward.

"There's Dementors," said Pansy. She wasn't afraid; she was telling him because he hadn't realised it yet.

He looked around, not seeing anything, but there was a familiar sort of feeling in his chest of happiness being leeched that he hadn't considered until Pansy had figured it out. He nodded curtly. Dementors were the least of their worries. With the rest of Bones' team trapped inside, they were facing experienced Death Eaters and werewolves almost alone. Draco had been a spy during the war. He could lie and cheat but his fighting skills weren't as honed as they could have been and Pansy could duel but she didn't come close to Bones.

Of course, he had under-estimated Bones. Slipping under, jumping over, dodging around hexes; she had headed straight for the front door of the Burrow. If she spoke, Draco didn't hear it, but the door and some of the Weasleys' wall shattered once she was close enough. And, as though they had been waiting for just that moment, Hermione, Fleur and the twins Apparated out onto the grounds as soon as the wards holding them in collapsed.

Almost two full beats later the other Weasleys and Potter Apparated amongst those already fighting on the grounds, as though they hadn't known Bones well enough to know that she'd get them out.

Once they were out, Bones was Apparating about, snapping in and out of groups of Death Eaters and staying close to Harry Potter. He was the focal point of the fight suddenly; and Draco wished that he wasn't quite so stoic about the whole thing.

Potter used flourish in his casting; his magic was strong enough that he could afford to. It worked for him; scaring those he was fighting and giving him an edge. With Bones working so closely to him, deflecting curses and moving them and guarding everything that Potter couldn't, they were close to unstoppable and Draco wished that he had the time to watch them.

But there were werewolves to fight and the Dementors were throwing themselves at his weakest Slytherins; Death Eaters were everywhere. Draco hadn't thought that so many remained.

Then suddenly all of the Death Eaters Disapparated; leaving Draco staring around himself. Bones and Potter had been pushed away from the group, almost to the edges of the forest. Neither looked hurt. Smiling, Draco took a step towards them. The look on Bones' face stopped him. She looked as though she was ready to hex anything that came within an inch of her; face strained and hand clenched on her wand.

Potter relaxed and stretched his shoulders, twirling his wand casually.

Then in a motion so swift that no one could have prevented it, a Dementor burst from the forest near Ginny Weasley, flying at her cloaked in its own brand of terror and misery. She had let her guard down too, and barely had the time to turn toward it before it was on her, sucking and draining.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Magic tingled along Draco's spine and he turned to see a stag Patronus charging across the metres that separated Potter from Ginny.

"Harry, no!" Bones' cry was sharp and exasperated, but Draco didn't understand it until the air around Potter and Bones glittered and a strong, acidic scent fizzled across the wind. They had been herded into another Anti-Disapparation spell and someone had triggered it.

Draco began running towards them moments after Dementors poured out of the forest and into the Anti-Disapparation area. Stupid Potter had sent his Patronus away and Bones did know how to cast one; but there were so many Dementors. Then Draco's heart nearly stopped because, instead of casting a Patronus, Bones was shielding Potter with her body and the Dementors were attacking her.

It took a Dementor five seconds to suck the soul out of someone. After it had happened to Lucius, Draco had had to know. Had to know everything. He counted now, as he ran.

Four; and Potter's stag was back at the shimmery Anti-Disapparation wards, trying to get through. Three, and Draco still wasn't close enough. Two, and he couldn't remember the curse to break an impromptu Anti-Disapparation spell. One, and Bones was screaming.

Zero, and someone, probably Fleur, cast a hex that split the Anti-Disapparation spell asunder and Potter's Patronus tore back through, scattering Dementors even as it faded back to nothing. An otter was there, as the stag disappeared, flipping about with graceful certainty, chasing the remnants of the battle away.

Draco barely saw it; every muscle in his body was focussed on getting to Bones before she fell. He didn't quite make it, but managed to catch her before she hit the ground. He was off-balance and sank into the grass, careful not to let her hit her head.

"Bones." He barely recognised his voice; it was frantic and hoarse as though he'd screamed himself dry and couldn't raise a sound above a whisper. "Oh, Merlin, Bones." She was gone, he knew she was. There was a horrible symmetry to it that meant that it had to be true. His father had been taken by Dementors, and now her. He'd spent the whole night promising fate anything, anything, if he could keep her alive. And fate was probably laughing all over again; because she'd be alive, but it had cost him her soul.

Footsteps approached and he raised his head, desolate and ready to attack anything that moved. It was only Granger. "Why didn't she use her Patronus?" he nearly shouted at her.

"She can't cast a Patronus," said Hermione.

Draco stared at her. "Of course she can cast a Patronus!" he spat out, voice ripped jagged. Only Bones could make him lose control of it like that. He swallowed and realised that he was holding her too hard and he was probably going to leave bruises. "She taught me," he said, low and arctic.

"I mean," said Hermione, kneeling down and holding her wand over Bones, casting some kind of non-verbal spell. "She can't. She knows how to in theory, but…" When Draco continued to stare at her, Hermione bit down on her lower lip. "She has no happy memories," she said. "She used to be able to cast a corporeal Patronus, but she can't now." She sighed, body relaxing as she sat back into the grass. "She's okay," she said, smiling at Draco. "Her soul's still there."

Pulling Bones up and cradling her against his chest, Draco stared into her face. There was no colour left in her cheeks; she looked like a page of parchment. "Five seconds," he whispered, not believing Granger. She was an insufferable optimist; she would say that Bones was alright.

Looking surprised, Granger nodded. "That's how long it takes," she agreed carefully, watching the Weasley matriarch check Potter. He was already moving, and Draco didn't consider his well-being to be relevant to the situation at hand. "Because Bones doesn't have anything happy in her; and she doesn't hope for anything better, it's a bit different with her. She's held up for ten seconds under Dementors before. It's like, without happiness they can't get a grip on her soul or something."

"We're Apparating." One of the twins leant by Draco and caught Bones by the shoulders, dragging her into his arms. "St. Mungo's if you want to follow," he told Draco, almost as an afterthought.

"Why would he want to follow? What are the Slytherins doing here at all?" Potter demanded but the Weasley didn't have any intention of waiting around to answer questions. He and Bones disappeared without further discussion.

"Bones brought them here," said Hermione, standing up. She held a hand out to Draco, eyes daring him to refuse to touch her. He'd gotten over that Mudblood stuff years ago, but he wasn't about to claim her as a friend or ally. He pushed himself to his feet, glancing around for Pansy or Nott.

Parkinson was there; eyes cold and slightly haunted. "Go after her," she said, voice flat. "I'll make sure everyone's okay here."

Draco had always been able to rely on her to protect the Slytherins. She did a better job of it than he did half the time. He nodded curtly and Apparated after Bones.


	30. Chapter 30

The emergency ward at St Mungo's was a blur of witches and wizards awaiting treatment. Draco glanced around; searching for the distinctive Weasley hair. Even in this crowd he would have thought it would be reasonably easy to find.

It wasn't. Draco was just beginning to panic when a hand caught him at the elbow, propelling him forward. He glanced sideways to catch a glimpse of Hermione. She was walking fast, shouldering her way past the waiting people. "Hottie members don't wait for treatment," she said as Draco fell into step beside her. "Fred will have found an emergency mediwitch by now."

They pushed through the doors that led from the waiting room to a long corridor without the nurses challenging them. Without asking for directions, Hermione seemed to know where she was going. She turned into a darker, narrower hallway. Up ahead a figure was leaning against the wall; hair glinting a familiar red.

"She's with a mediwitch team," he said before Hermione asked. He looked tired and less cheerful than usual.

Hermione sighed and leant against the wall beside Fred; leaning in to bump her shoulder into his arm affectionately. It made him smile, but he still looked as though the day had been too much for him.

"Attacking my home on Christmas Day is not sporting," he drawled.

Before anyone could reply a nurse came over to press chocolate upon the three. Hermione didn't bother breaking a piece off her slab; biting into it instead and chewing pensively as she watched the nurse leave.

"The others are following protocol?" asked Fred.

She nodded curtly, still frowning in thought.

"Is she okay?" Draco asked. His chest felt tight and his nerves frayed, as though he was on the verge of a panic attack. They were all signs of a recent Dementor encounter and he really should have been eating his chocolate; but he was too on edge.

"She will be," said Fred. "She'll be tired and grumpy for a bit though."

Someone further up the corridor snorted and Draco turned to find that George had brought Helen to the hospital. "As though that's anything different. Can she see family yet?"

Fred shook his head.

Helen's mouth twisted wryly and then she shrugged and leant against the wall too. "She didn't come home for Christmas, did you know?" she asked irritably. "If she'd died it would have been after standing her family up for Christmas."

"She was at Malfoy's for Christmas," said Fred, frowning across at Draco as though he couldn't figure it out.

"Oh," Helen glanced at Draco before looking back at Fred. "I thought she would have been with you guys."

"We invited her," said Fred. "But mum fusses when she comes to ours for big occasions. She always asks why Bones won't spend it with her own family instead."

"Because she's a horrible person obviously," said Helen.

Hermione laughed. "That's a nice way to talk about someone who's just nearly died."

Helen shrugged. "It doesn't make her less horrible."

"Hey, that horrible person saved your life several times during the war," said George. His tone was amiable, as though he was used to Helen speaking this way about Bones, but there was an edge to it that made Draco think that he didn't like it. It made Draco like him just a little more.

Helen scowled and looked as though she was going to argue.

Hermione stretched her shoulders as though this was an argument that she was tired of. "Take it up with your sister when she wakes," she advised.

"Oh, don't worry I will," said Helen, folding her arms across her chest.

A mediwitch came in a few hours later to let the group know that Bones was awake, and when they had finished their tests she would be allowed visitors. Helen's shoulders sagged a little and Draco thought that for all of her complaining, she was still devoted to Bones. "I'm going to find a Floo," she said.

"Bones is okay?" Draco asked the mediwitch.

The mediwitch shrugged, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I imagine so. She's drawing up suspect lists as we speak."

Hermione gave a short snort of laughter, as though that was to be expected. Perhaps it was. Draco was out of his element with this new Bones.

The tests finished quite quickly and the mediwitch came back to escort them to Bones' room. She was sitting up in her white bed with a sweetly aromatic potion bubbling on the table beside her as she scribbled on scraps of paper that she had likely demanded from the medical staff.

"I can't believe you're still working," said Helen, throwing herself into one of the visitor's chairs. "You're insane."

"I've got nothing better to do," said Bones, not glancing up from her notes. The hollows around her eyes were dark and her face looked washed out.

"Lie in bed, moan about the pain - eat jelly for Merlin's sake," said Helen. "Being sick is meant to be fun."

"I am having fun," said Bones. "I've already come up with four major suspects."

Helen sighed. "And how far up the list is dad?"

"He's number one," said Bones happily.

"What?" asked Draco, startled. "Sebastian Bones is a suspect?"

"Every time," said Helen irritably. "Every new case that Zee gets, he's at the top of the list."

"Well, I know he's done something," said Bones. "He has those shifty eyes."

"And yet he always comes out innocent," said Helen, holding her hands wide in exasperation.

"Yes, he's crafty," Bones admitted. "But we'll get him in the end."

"You're a horrible daughter," said Helen. "And not a very good sister."

"You're a pretty good drinker though," said Draco. Bones smiled at him, eyes glowing softly. She was moving more cautiously than usual, careful not to stretch her limbs too far. Probably still in some kind of pain.

"Alright." Hermione opened her bag and began pulling quills and parchment from it. We'll be getting reports back any minute now, let's start running interference."

Bones cast her suspects list a forlorn look before rolling it up and putting it aside. "Daily Prophet?" she asked. Hermione and the twins seemed to know what she was talking about, even if Draco had no clue and they began discussing the matter in some depth. Draco went to Bones' bedside and picked up her suspects' list, unravelling it. Three of the four names meant nothing to him. The fourth, Sebastian Bones, was underlined thrice in red.

The threads of evidence linked to his name were conjecture at best. Family didn't make sense. Draco had had every reason to hate his father, and had loved him anyway. And here was Bones, searching for reasons to hate her father because she didn't have any.

"What in Merlin's name?" exclaimed a voice and Draco lifted his head to see that an older wizard had come in the door, followed closely by a witch.

Both of them were staring at him, though neither of them was familiar.

"Oh, hi dad," said Helen; and that changed everything.

Draco glanced quickly at Bones before looking at her parents again. He couldn't see the similarities that existed in so many families. Her jaw might have resembled her mother's and her hair might have been the colour her father's had been in his youth. They weren't what he'd expected. He had thought that Sebastian Bones would have been taller and broader than this man with sad, kind eyes and shoulders that hunched under some unseen weight. Bones' mother too looked as though life had been more than she could manage, and she was struggling just to reach the end of each day.

Bones frowned. "You didn't need to visit. I'm not about to die," she said.

Her mother winced as though Bones' words were physically painful.

"What is he doing here?" demanded her father, who hadn't yet taken his gaze off Draco.

"It's work-related," said Bones. "I can't discuss it with you."

"Is that where you were Christmas Eve?" demanded Mr. Bones. "Your mother checked with the Weasleys and you weren't there."

"Yes, I was with Malfoy." Bones went back to her new scrap of paper, leaving Draco to feel like he was on his own with this situation.

"Work-related?" exclaimed Mr Bones.

"Dad, what..? What are you even angry about?" asked Helen, eyes wide with anxiety as she looked from her father to Draco.

"We'd better..." said Mrs Bones, her face drawn tight with worry. "This isn't something we should talk about with everyone here."

Draco glared at her and she bit into her trembling lower lip. They could go right ahead and air their dirty laundry in public. He wasn't going anywhere.

"Right," said one of the twins, sidling towards the door with the other right behind him. "We'll just be down the hall then."

Hermione left with them, looking just as relieved to be getting away. Bones gave them a half-hearted wave as they went with Mrs Bones ushering a protesting Helen out after them.

"If you don't mind," said Mr Bones when Draco leant against the wall by Bones' bed with the obvious intention of staying. "We'd like to talk to Susan alone."

"I do mind," said Draco, letting his fingers rest against the handle of his wand. Mr Bones got the threat, eyes narrowing before he shot a worried look across at his wife. Draco made a mental note that Mrs Bones was Mr Bones' weakness. He had betrayed it far too easily.

Bones flicked a dismissive hand at him. "I can fight my own fights, Malfoy," she drawled. That was to be expected. If she could fight for the Ministry, she could fight for herself.

Draco smirked at her and didn't move. "If you're going to talk about me, have the courtesy to do so in my presence rather than behind my back," he said, tone scathing because, even if she'd just nearly had her soul sucked out, she could handle it.

Bones laughed shortly and shrugged her agreement. Her parents scowled at Draco. Bones pulled a watch from her pocket and looked at it. "No more than five minutes, please. I have work to be getting on with. And if you won't talk with Malfoy here then you may as well leave. It would be abominably rude to discuss his faults without giving him the chance to defend himself." She had changed so much. Once Draco had been jealous at the bond between Bones and her family. That bond had all but dissolved now and Draco should have felt a savage sense of satisfaction about it. Instead he felt the loss of it.

Bones didn't seem to. She seemed comfortable treating her parents as irritating distractions from her job. Draco suspected that she'd been doing it a long time.

"We know you're angry with us," said Mrs Bones, her voice struggling to stay even.

"Not this again. You haven't done anything for me to be angry about," said Bones, stabbing at her parchment with her quill. If she wasn't still in reasonably high levels of pain Draco thought that she would probably have stood up and walked out.

Mrs Bones lifted her chin. "Suzie, we know you're angry, but this." She motioned expansively at Draco. "This isn't the way to go about it..."

"I resent the implication that I'm spending time with Malfoy to punish you," said Bones. She didn't sound as though she resented anything, sounded bored rather than offended.

"Why then?" demanded Mr Bones. "Why have anything to do with that Death Eating..?"

"To get away from you," said Bones, her voice flat and casual.

Mrs Bones smothered a sob with the back of her hand.

"For Merlin's sake, mother, it's nothing personal."

"Susan," said Mr Bones, putting his arm around his wife's shoulders and pulling her close. "We need to work at this. It's not...Family's not easy, but if we all try we can get through this. Having a Malfoy around will only make things worse."

Draco gave an incredulous bark of laughter. "How could things possibly get worse?" He wondered whether Bones' parents knew that she was planning on killing herself once her job was done. He wondered how much they would care.

"Time," said Bones, looking at her watch. "I need to get back to work. Please send the others in, but take Helen home."

"Susan," said Mrs Bones, a pleading note in her voice.

Bones sighed. "Mother, I will try to visit in a few days. Until then, there is nothing on earth more important than dealing with an attack against Harry Potter."

"That was cold," said Draco when the Bones' had given up and left.

"It's true," replied Bones, resuming her note-taking. "I don't have time for distractions."

Draco reached out and ran his fingers through her messy hair. It only made her smile so he figured that she did have time for distractions, she just didn't have time for her parents. It made his heart constrict painfully. He might have always been vindictively, maliciously jealous of her family, but he had never wanted this. Merlin, he hoped that he hadn't.

Bones caught his hand when he brushed it against her cheek. "Not that I'm objecting, pet," she said, tone cool and bored. "But you might want to check on your Slytherins." Something about the way that her eyes flickered towards him told him that she actually was worried about the Slytherins. Draco wondered whether he should feel so relieved over such a tiny concession to humanity. At the moment, he would take hope from anything he could.

He didn't want to leave her. And yet. "I will come back," he said.

Bones didn't seem to care, merely shrugging her shoulders and saying, "Take your time."

The others were heading back to the room as Draco was leaving. Helen hadn't listened to her parents and was still with Hermione. Draco caught George's arm at the door and half-dragged him into the hall.

"What's up?" asked George, and then through a long habit of tradition added, "Git."

"You and George stay with Bones, okay?"

"I am George," said George.

Draco waved a dismissive hand. "Stop pretending there's a difference. Now promise you'll both stay with her."

George sighed. "Hottie does have safety protocols, luv. We're not just a pretty face."

"You left her alone today with the son of a Death Eater and her parents, who she hates," said Draco coldly.

"Well, you're not going to hurt her," said George irritably. "No more than you have already, at least. And where her parents are concerned she can more than match them in an argument."

"She needs to have a battle-trained witch or wizard with her," said Draco. "I don't want her left without one. Not even if her father asks."

George chewed on the inside of his cheek, studying Draco suspiciously. "It will piss her off," he said. "But what the hell. She pisses us off often enough." He nodded at Draco and sauntered past him into Bones' room.


	31. Chapter 31

George didn't sit down when he went back into Bones' room. Instead he did a quick circuit, checking the security. The bed may have been a little close to the window, and it was definitely in full view of the hallway. Calculating the risk of an attack through the window or door against the potential for an escape route, George shoved the bed out of view of the hall and closer to the window.

"Is the hospital not Feng Shui enough for you?" asked Fred dryly.

"It does lack that certain ambience," agreed George. "It is not conductive to a healing environment."

Bones didn't seem to mind her bed being moved; only levitating her bed-stand closer once George was done. "You're worried about my safety," she said, picking her quill up once more and assessing her parchment. "What's changed?"

"We haven't had the reports back," said George carefully. "We have no way of knowing whether other political figures have been attacked yet, but Hermione, Delacour and Krum are on it."

Bones looked up from her notes then, eyes narrowing in contemplation. A cynical smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and she nodded to herself finally. "My parents ambushed you and told you to protect me from Malfoy."

George shrugged, creasing his nose. "I am unable to verify or refute that accusation at this time."

Bones merely shook her head, not bothering to argue. She must have been more tired than she looked. Fred had picked up on it too, because he leant forward. "Bones, you should probably try to sleep."

She was shaking her head before he had finished, but the twins knew Bones better than most people did. They might not be able to force her to do anything, but they could manipulate her better than most of her friends and family.

"There's nothing you can do right now," said Fred. "We don't have the necessary information. Try to sleep for now and when we have more details about the attack we can start investigating."

Bones grinned sharply. She knew that she was being played, but she could obviously see the sense in Fred's plan too. "If anything big happens you will wake me," she said.

George would have agreed to the demand, but Fred was better at this sort of negotiation. "If we can't handle it ourselves," he said.

Bones made a face and then shrugged her agreement.

She was a light-sleeper at the best of times and movement usually startled her awake so George went to get her a sleeping draught. They always kept the antidote to it on hand and most of them needed to take it when they were sleeping somewhere that hadn't been secured. It was another part of war that George hoped would fade with time.

"What's going on?" Fred asked once Bones was sleeping.

They weren't sitting close to one another. If there was an attack they stood more of a chance spread out. "Malfoy," he said. "He told me to make sure there was a battle-trained witch or wizard in here at all times. He seemed pretty freaked out about it actually."

"You think he was expecting a follow-up attack to target her?" asked Fred.

It hadn't seemed that way. Draco wasn't trained in the same way that they were and when the attack on the Burrow had been over, he had seemed to think that that was the end of it while the rest of Hottie had actioned all of their safety protocols, sending Aurors out to protect other possible political targets. But George wasn't sure what the alternative theory could be. He shrugged. "I guess so."

Fred's brows pulled together in the middle and he studied his twin. "There's more."

"It's probably nothing. We both know…I mean it's obvious that he's interested in keeping her alive, for whatever reason."

"Still," said Fred. "There's more."

George tilted his head forward, half in acknowledgement and half so that he could think about the situation without his twin reading his eyes. "I doubt that he even considered that Bones might still be at risk," he said. "I think he was using it as an excuse."

"An excuse to do what?" asked Fred, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Wait, you mean, because her parents aren't battle-trained? You think he's trying to keep them away from her?"

George shook his head. "He didn't tell me to keep them out. He told me to make sure they weren't alone with her."

"What? He's worried that they'll forbid her from seeing him? That would only make her more determined."

"Yeah," George agreed.

"Then he's worried about her safety?" asked Fred, brow furrowing in thought.

George snorted. "Even Malfoy's not mental enough to think her own parents would harm her just because she was seeing him."

"What then?" Fred sounded frustrated. "He thinks they'll yell at her? Upset her?"

"What does he expect us to do if they do? He should know her well enough to know that she'll fight her own fights."

"Then he is worried for her safety," exclaimed Fred. "What's the alternative?"

"From her parents?" George asked incredulously. "He'd do better to protect her from himself."

Fred frowned at him.

"Well, come on," said George. "You saw how she was when he dumped her last time."

That made Fred's frown deepen, lines of confusion gathering on his brow. "Did he dump her last time?"

George shrugged helplessly. "Who knows? She never talks about it, and she gets scary if you try to ask. But it's not hard to guess. She was the one who was cut up about it."

"Actually," said a lighter voice and Fred and George turned to find that Hermione had come through the door in that frighteningly silent manner of hers. There had to be some magic to it. She folded her arms across her chest and studied Bones' sleeping form. "They were both cut up over it."

"How would you know who was cut up?" asked George. "You can't tell a thing from looking at Malfoy. Cold git."

"Cho Chang," said Hermione, leaning back against the door she had come through. "She saw Malfoy fighting with Bones in the Eastern courtyard after they'd broken up. According to her, Bones was the cold one."

"Fighting about what?" asked Fred.

"Jesus, Fred, this was years ago and I only got it from hearsay," said Hermione irritably. She prided herself on her investigative abilities though, so she chewed her lower lip and tried to remember what Cho had said. "It was something about letters," she said. "Malfoy seemed to think that Bones hadn't broken it off properly and he was angry about it. And apparently Bones acted like she had no idea why Malfoy was even bothering to talk to her. Malfoy had been sending her letters over the summer and she'd stopped taking them or sending any back without saying why."

Fred and George both eyed her uncertainly. "Your memory is scary amazing," said Fred finally.

Hermione laughed.

"Malfoy must have done something unforgivable to make Bones cut things off without a word," said George. "He must have been torturing House-elves or something."

"And for all that she did love him," said Hermione. "Otherwise it wouldn't have broken her so completely."

"Maybe he was cheating on her," suggested Fred. "Parkinson cornered her after Charms one day and threatened to Crucio her over Malfoy. Bit of a triangle there, you think?"

Hermione shook her head. "Bones would have broken it off properly if he were cheating," she said. "She might have hexed him a bit but there'd be none of this pretending nothing had ever happened."

George tilted his head, studying the bed with a frown spreading across his face. "In what situation would Bones not break it off properly?" he finally demanded. "She wouldn't pretend nothing had happened no matter who was in the wrong. She's pro-active, not passive. She'd sort it out."

Hermione shrugged. "That's what Cho saw," she said. "Bones was pretending she had no idea why Malfoy was bothering her."

"Then Chang saw wrong," said George. "Bones wouldn't avoid something like that."

"Yes, she would," said Hermione. When the twins turned to her, she lifted her chin. "She does the same with us. I asked her once what happened with Malfoy and she just looked puzzled and asked what I meant. I agree, it's out of character for her to avoid an issue. But, where Malfoy's concerned, that is what she does."

"She does the same with us," Fred admitted. "But to be fair it's none of our business…"

"Then she should tell us it's none of our business," said Hermione. "Not act like there's nothing there and never was." 

"She usually would," said George.

"Well, she's not," said Hermione, with an annoyed shrug. "She's blaming her parents for the fact that she's miserable and welcoming Malfoy back like he's a saint."

Fred sat straighter, eyes narrowing and darkening. "We don't know that Malfoy did anything."

"He's a nasty piece of work. There are pretty good odds on it. Besides, that's when Bones got cold."

"Bones is honest," said Fred. "Even when she makes mistakes or is wrong about someone, I've never known her to be otherwise."

"I think we've established that those rules go out the window where Malfoy's concerned," said Hermione.

"What if they don't?" asked Fred.

Hermione threw a hand up in exasperated disbelief before looking to George for support. He was watching his twin, breathing shallow as though he was starting to understand something and he really didn't like it. But they were both taking Fred's question seriously. "Okay," said Hermione, voice heavy with sarcasm. "What if Bones was always honest, even about break-ups? Then I guess she seriously would not have known who I was talking about when I said that Malfoy had only ever looked at one girl like she was more important than he was."

Fred nodded.

George stretched his shoulders, uncomfortably. "And she would have honestly not known why I thought that she might be jealous of Nott possibly being with Malfoy."

Fred nodded again. George glanced across at his twin and the line of his shoulders tightened. Hermione turned from one to the other, trying to keep up. They were on to something and she couldn't figure out what.

"I asked her about it all recently," said George. "She said that Malfoy had sat with her once or twice in Potions and that's it. That's all she'll admit."

"There," said Hermione. "She lies. That's an outright lie."

"What if it's not?" asked Fred.

"Well," said Hermione. "That would mean that Bones has somehow completely forgotten that she and Malfoy had ever been together…" she broke off and stared at Fred, heart skipping several anxious beats. "This…I can't…" She broke off and chewed her lower lip hard for several moments as she considered the situation. "Bones hates her parents," she said softly.

"And Malfoy doesn't want Bones' parents left alone with her," George added.

"It makes a horrible kind of sense," said Fred. "He's back and she trusts him. It's…"

"I'm going to the library," said Hermione, pulling the door open abruptly. "Don't anyone jump to conclusions until I get some definitive proof."

"Already there," said George wryly. "This is the only thing that makes sense."


	32. Chapter 32

Draco arrived back at Malfoy Manor not knowing what to expect. After Bones had fallen everything had been a blur. Parkinson was fine. He thought that she'd been with Bulstrode, so Millie was probably okay as well. He didn't know about Nott, Baddock, the Greengrasses…

When he walked into the front sitting room, Nott looked across at him. His wand was out and he was healing a gash across Crabbe's shoulder.

No one had died then. The Slytherins knew better than anyone how to go into triage mode. If anyone had been hurt badly their best healer would not be wasting his time on a flesh wound that even Goyle would have been able to handle.

Theo's shoulders tensed as Draco came forward, but his voice came out even. "She's alright then?"

"Yes," agreed Draco, trying to figure out whether the shoulders meant that Nott was worried about him, or angry that he'd left the Slytherins for Bones yet again. "Sorry for leaving you with everything."

"You're not sorry," Nott pointed out mildly.

There wasn't a point in lying. Draco would leave anyone to go to Bones. He knew it wasn't healthy and that it wasn't what Bones would have wanted had she known about it; but he wasn't himself without her. Even when she couldn't remember him, knowing that she was there kept him in check. He didn't want to think about what he'd be if anything did happen to her. He shook his head in answer to Nott's comment. "Thanks for taking care of things," he said instead.

"Parkinson's furious," said Crabbe. A warning, not a reprimand.

Draco sighed. "I'll sort it out."

"Paperwork is something that you sort out, Draco Malfoy. I am not." Pansy strode in, eyes flashing dangerously. "Now, I don't know how you've gotten Nott wrapped around your little finger so suddenly, but don't expect me to go down that easily."

Draco took one look at her before turning to Nott anxiously. They should have come up with a contingency plan when Nott had suggested it.

Nott squared his shoulders, straightening up and turning away from Crabbe. "Parkinson," he said, voice composed and resolute as it always was when he was about to argue with someone.

"No," said Pansy. "We were meant to be together on this. You never liked Bones and I'm never going to forgive her."

"You don't need to worry about forgiving her," said Nott. "You need to talk to Malfoy, and then you can try to forgive him."

Pansy frowned, brows drawing together in a combination of puzzlement and annoyance. "Aside from getting back in contact with that Hufflepuff, Malfoy hasn't done anything wrong."

Nott laughed shortly. "Malfoy makes a business of doing the wrong thing. I think that he was attempting to do the right thing in this case at least, though I doubt that you'll forgive him more easily for that."

"Nott," Draco objected, scowling.

"She has to be told," said Nott. "And it should have been sooner than this."

Draco had forgotten that whenever he refused to come up with contingency plans, Nott would do it for him. Of itself, that was not so bad. It was just that Nott was so much more honest and tactless than Draco was. He didn't consider endgames when he was dealing with friends.

"I have to be told what?" asked Pansy dangerously. "And bear in mind that the only explanation that I want to hear is that you're working your way back into Bones' life so that you can fuck it up as momentously as she did ours. I can get on board with that."

Crabbe's shoulder was all healed, but he scrunched himself into as small as a bundle as he could, eyes darting from one of his friends to the next, looking as though he expected wands to be drawn at any moment. He slid off his chair and sidled out of the room before anyone could rope him into choosing sides.

"Bones' life is already monumentally fucked up," said Nott quietly. It was to his credit that the fact didn't make him happy, or if it did he hid it well.

"I'm delighted," said Pansy, voice high with emotion. Not solely anger, either. During the war Pansy had combed through every copy of the Daily Prophet, searching for information on Bones. Making sure that she wasn't dead. Pansy wasn't superstitious, but even she never tempted fate enough to wish for Bones to die in those long war years.

Sometimes Nott was probably right. The truth had to be easier than these layers of lies that Draco had built up. Draco lowered himself into the armchair by the fireplace and waved a hand at Nott to continue.

"You know the details," said Nott, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. Draco knew that Nott hated having to shoulder responsibilities that weren't his, but he was so good at it.

"I don't wish to share details," said Draco, leaning back into the cushions of his chair, feet stretched towards the fire. If he could have left Nott to the explanation alone, he would have walked out. Someone needed to be around for the fall-out though. With Parkinson there was always fall-out.

She shot him a suspicious look. "What is he babbling about?"

"You remember how Bones didn't want anyone finding out that she was spending time with Malfoy at Hogwarts?" Nott asked.

Pansy licked her upper lip, shooting a worried glance at Draco. Oh yes, she remembered. Draco had thrown the temper tantrum from hell and subsequently been unbearable for days when he had realised that Bones was hiding him. Only weeks earlier, when he'd thought that she was concealing their relationship for his sake, he'd been pleased with it.

"What has that got to do with anything? She's always been ashamed of being seen with Slytherins so we're meant to forgive her for it?"

"Except that she was never ashamed of being seen with you," said Nott. "Or of being seen with Vince, Greg or Millie."

Pansy's eyes narrowed. "Just Malfoy?" She still sounded angry about the situation, but Draco could tell that she was beginning to see that there might be more to it. "Good for her, but when she dumped Malfoy; she dumped all of us as well. So obviously…"

"She never dumped Malfoy."

The Slytherins all spun toward the doorway. Hermione Granger undid her cloak at the throat and pulled it off her shoulders, folding it over her arm.

"One of the House-Elves let me in," she said by way of explanation.

Draco was already half out of his chair. "Is Bones..?"

"She's fine," said Hermione. "I came here to see you actually. I was going to go to the library but then I realised that you had all the information I needed and it would be easier to just ask."

"Ask what?" demanded Pansy.

"Ask whether Bones' parents wiped her memories," said Hermione.

Draco's heart skittered as any control he might have had over the situation imploded. He cast a desperate glance toward Theo.

"We have nothing to discuss with you," said Nott, eyes flinty but steady.

Pansy had hated Bones with a steely determination for five years. She had single-handedly and ruthlessly hexed any of her friends who dared mention Bones until they no longer did. Draco was pretty sure that Pansy had sent Bones a letter on the anniversary of her Aunt Amelia's death. The words 'if You-Know-Who hadn't killed her, the way you turned out would have' might have been used. And despite all of that, she pushed her hair behind her ear and looked Granger up and down. "Bones' parents wiped her memories," Pansy said. Draco knew that it was meant to be a question, but it came out like a statement. As though Pansy had always known that there was some explanation; or as though she had hoped for one so much that she was willing to accept the first that cropped up. She nodded once. "That makes sense."

"Does it?" asked Hermione. "How? What in the world could make a couple physically alter their child's brain?"

"I don't know," said Pansy. "But it makes more sense that they did than that she did."


	33. Chapter 33

"How could you not tell us?"

Draco sighed, rubbing his forehead and waiting for Pansy to run out of steam. She had been yelling at him for five minutes. Draco tried to shoot Theo desperate glances, but Theo was ignoring them because Theo could be a bastard sometimes.

Hermione had found the sitting room book-cases and was running her fingers along the spines of the tomes, oblivious to the fight behind her.

"You left her in their grasp! All through the war – how could you? Those people cut her mind up and you didn't even warn her! They could have hurt her again."

"They wouldn't need to," said Hermione, not turning away from the shelf.

Draco braced himself. Having Pansy yelling at him was enough without Granger adding to it. He cast an especially desperate look across at Nott – who ignored him.

"What her parents did to her the first time broke her," said Hermione. "They didn't need another shot."

Parkinson's eyes narrowed to slits as she glared at Draco. "I'm so angry at you," she said, voice shaking in rage. "If I had my wand on me I would hex you. And I don't know if I'd be able to stop."

"You could borrow my wand," said Hermione.

All three Slytherins swivelled to stare at her. She turned away from the book-case at last. "We could have helped you," she told Draco. "I get that you coming up to Bones and trying to convince her that she had…" She broke off, brow creasing as she tried to get her thoughts straight. Finally she shrugged. "She had loved you, hadn't she? That's what this was about?"

Draco turned away from her. He kept his shoulders straight, head high. He didn't trust himself to speak. Didn't trust that he could control his voice right then, so he controlled his posture instead.

"Yes," said Pansy, voice cracking at the edges. "Bones loved him."

She had; but it had taken everything Draco had to get her there.

She had been harder to convince than he had been; though he had slipped into loving her with such ease that for weeks he hadn't realised it. He had just known that he thought of her constantly. His nightmares about becoming a Death Eater – having the Dark Mark carved into his flesh and sealed with the Dark Lord's blood – faded; replaced by nightmares of her being killed and him not being able to get to her in time. When she began teaching him how to cast a Patronus, he thought of her and managed a Corporeal Patronus on the eighteenth try.

Bones laughed and clapped her hands in delight as the silvery kite skimmed around her. Draco watched the way her glow of happiness lit her skin and the next time around his Patronus was so strong that it didn't fade for a full five minutes.

He spent more time with her; and because she was always happy to see him he assumed that she knew how he felt. Assumed that she felt the same way. Which was crazy, because he hadn't even known how he felt at the time. Not enough to put it into words. The feelings were there, probably stronger than anything he'd felt before – even hatred – but he hadn't analysed them.

She still watched Ernie Macmillan. Every breakfast, lunch and dinner – and in any classes they shared between. Even Zabini noticed; smirking behind his Charms text and raising his brows at Draco.

"Guess she's moved on to greener pastures," he commented.

Draco scowled, sinking lower into his seat. He still sat with her in Potions, but she wanted to spend time with her friends in other classes. He'd agreed. Despite internal rivalries, he liked most of his fellow Slytherins and wanted time with them too. But she didn't have to laugh so much when she talked to Macmillan, and she didn't have to lean against him as often.

It all came to a head the day Draco left History to find Bones and Macmillan standing in the stairwell outside. Bones was facing away from Draco, rearranging her textbooks, when Macmillan reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Bones began to turn toward him, but stopped when Macmillan leant in and pressed his mouth against her cheek.

He stepped back, hand still curved to her jaw, eyes not moving from her face. She lifted her hand to press it against his, brow creasing as though she was surprised or confused.

"Some of us have places to be," Draco snapped.

Bones started and jerked back. Both she and Macmillan flushed brightly in embarrassment. Her gaze flew to Draco and then she laughed, light and easy. "Sorry, Malfoy." She stepped out of the way, Ernie doing the same, so that Draco could go down the stairs.

He didn't. "Bones," he said instead. "Let's chat."

She smiled, happy as always to spend time with him. Just obviously in a very different way.

History had been their last class for the day so she loaded Macmillan down with her textbooks and he headed back to the Hufflepuff Common Room. Bones watched him go, cheeks still flushed and a soft smile on her lips.

The corridor was too busy so Draco took the stairs, heading up and away from the other students. He didn't bother speaking. Bones was following at a distance anyway, so they wouldn't look as though they were together. They found a storeroom in a quieter corridor and slipped inside.

"What is it?" she asked finally, not looking at Draco, but at the shelves of old textbooks and caldrons.

He went to sit on the dusty window seat and watched her in bathed sunlight made murky by the grimy window-panes. "There's a dance on in a week," he said.

Bones shrugged.

"Has Macmillan asked you?"

That made her smile. "I'm not going to tell you about my personal life, Malfoy."

"It's hardly personal. If he's asked you I'll know it as soon as I see you at the dance. Has he asked you?"

Bones chewed on her lower lip, studying the faded labels of a dozen glass vials. "He will ask me," she said decisively.

"He hasn't yet," said Draco, shoulders relaxing at the relief of it.

Bones turned to frown at him in confusion. "Does it matter?"

"Go with me instead," said Draco.

Bones stepped backwards, almost hitting the shelf behind her as her frown deepened. "I can't," she said. "I'm not…I mean…"

"You haven't been asked yet. At least Macmillan hasn't asked you," said Draco. He was good at convincing people to do what he wanted, but he'd never had to convince anyone to go out with him. He'd never asked anyone out unless he'd been sure that they would accept.

Bones bit her lower lip, eyes darkening. "I'd rather go with Ernie," she said, voice soft.

Draco frowned at her. She was telling the truth – she hadn't lied to him since she'd told him that she wouldn't, but it didn't feel right. If she wanted to go with Macmillan, she should have led with that. Instead she'd told him that she couldn't and only used Macmillan as an excuse when Draco had brought him up. "Do you actually like him in that way?" he asked.

"Malfoy, this is really uncomfortable," Bones protested, eyes going to the door as though she was considering making a break for it.

"Is it? Here I was thinking that friends tell each other things. I am your friend, aren't I?"

She scowled, looking cross and cornered and as though she hated him a little for it. "You know you are."

Draco did know, but her admission unfurled something warm and pleasant in him anyway. "So tell me then, do you have a crush on Macmillan?"

"I've already talked to you about this," said Bones. She was trying too hard to avoid the topic. Draco was sure that whatever it was she felt for Macmillan didn't go beyond friendship.

"You talked to me about it when you were lying to me. Now I want you to tell me the truth."

She sighed, giving up. "No. I don't have a crush on Ernie." She lifted her head and winced at Draco's expression. "He doesn't have a crush on me either," she assured him, as though she thought that Draco would think less of her for leading someone on. "He was just helping out."

That was cunning. Draco leant back against the window pane, surprised that he wasn't upset at her for playing him. "You were trying to make me jealous."

She stared at him, eyes widening in shock.

Draco reconsidered. It wouldn't be the way a Hufflepuff would go about getting someone. They were too loyal. If Draco had thought that Bones was in love with Macmillan, he wouldn't think he had a hope of taking her from him. "What then?"

"I wanted you to believe that I wasn't available," said Bones. "You kept asking things that made me think you were checking and you – and you kissed me that once so…" She shrugged, voice trailing off.

Draco threw his hands up in frustration. "You couldn't have just told me that you didn't like me like that?" he demanded.

Bones bit her lower lip and looked away, working her hands into her pockets as though she didn't know what to do with them. "The world isn't always as simple as it should be. I'd think that you'd know that better than anyone."

Draco did. The world was a mess and he was mostly just as screwed up as it was. But she was meant to be different. Since she'd been around she'd been the one simple thing in his life. The one thing that he could trust. And now even that was breaking. Draco clenched a hand into a fist. "You can't lie to me anymore," he said, watching her closely. She pulled her hands out of her pockets and hugged her arms around herself, refusing to turn back to him. As though, after all this, she finally realised that she needed to protect herself from him.

"I don't know what you want, Malfoy," she said, voice tight as though she blamed him for this situation when it was her fault.

"Why didn't you just tell me that you didn't like me like that?"

"Because I couldn't," said Bones.

"Because you do like me," said Draco, voice coming out as bitter as blood when he wanted to sound coldly amused. "And you're not allowed to lie about it."

Bones' mouth compressed, eyes shining a little brighter. She nodded still not looking at him, but studying the vials again. Her shoulders were tighter, and her hands trembled.

Draco pushed himself forward and jumped off the window seat. "You're just like everyone else," he said. She flinched, but turned to look at him finally. "You act as though you're above judging people based on their House or based on their family but when it comes down to it you're just like them. They're just more honest about it."

She crushed her hands into fists to keep them from shaking and nodded, spine ramrod straight and eyes like cold flint. "I thought that we were the same," she said. "I thought that you were as against anyone knowing about me as I was about anyone knowing about you. When things happened that suggested you weren't, I started taking precautions. They were meant to protect you."

"Don't," Draco snapped. "Don't act like you thought of me at all. You wanted to see what the other side was like, you just didn't bother to mention that it was temporary."

"I told you that I would never want anyone to think that we were together," said Bones. "You seemed to feel the same way."

She had. Draco remembered her reaction when he'd told her that Zabini had thought they were dating. His own reaction hadn't been much better; he'd wanted to salvage his reputation at any cost. He had changed though. He had introduced her to all of his friends. Some of them even liked her. And she had stayed just the same. He hadn't met anyone from her side. He'd gotten in so deep and she'd barely gotten in at all. "Maybe then," he said. "But things are different now."

Bones' mouth compressed, eyes flaring a little before dulling. "Things will never be different, Malfoy. Not for me."

"Based on what? My House or my name?"

"We live in a world where those things matter," said Bones.

Draco smirked at her. "Yes. In our world my House and name do matter. And yours don't mean a thing."

She looked cornered and miserable but gave a tight, jerky nod of agreement. "That's how it is," she said, voice soft and sad as though she pitied _him_ for being so well-known and didn't feel any pain at her own obscurity.

"And how it will always be," said Draco. "Hufflepuffs have no ability to stand for anything. They don't deserve to be remembered."

"Please don't," said Bones, voice sharp as though she was panicking.

"Don't what? Don't judge you for being such a coward that you can't handle what people might think if you admitted that you liked me? Why not? You get to judge me based on something that I have no control over, so why can't I judge you..?"

"Because I can't stand it!" Bones exclaimed. "You're my friend. I want you to just be my friend…"

"I don't want to be friends with someone like you," said Draco. "And if everyone knew what you were like, no one else would either."

He turned and headed for the door but she reached out and caught his elbow. "Malfoy!"

He stopped, staring down at her slim fingers, pale against the fabric of his robes. "You will not speak to me again," he said, measuring his words as carefully as he measured Potions ingredients. His voice came out like his father's; silky and merciless. She didn't let go, and usually Draco would have no way of threatening her. She had told him how to hurt her though. "Unless you want me to go after Hannah Abbott."

Bones pulled her hand back like she'd been stung and Draco walked out the door.


End file.
